


Santa Is Judging You

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Merry Christmas, Baby [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A Little Bit Smutty, Christmas Parties, F/M, Holiday Hookups, People asked for this right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-06 00:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy Lewis really didn't plan on hooking up with her least favorite SHIELD co-worker at the office Christmas party, but well.....





	1. They Have Reindeer in Greenland, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

Darcy--in her favorite holiday elf ears and Santa Christmas sweater-- had edged her way up to the bar at the SHIELD holiday party. “Do you know how to make a French martini?” she asked. They had Chambord liqueur, pineapple juice, vodka, and champagne. She loved them. She had to explain the ingredients, but it was worth the wait.

Behind her someone chuckled. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Brock Rumlow, SHIELD’s primo asshole. “Nice ears. You get that girly drink sorted, princess?” Brock asked, leaning close to her ear. She repressed a noise of frustration. Darcy knew Rumlow was some kind of anti-HYDRA hero at SHIELD: he’d been a secret triple agent, sustained Deadpool-level burns during the Triskelion collapse, and then even done a stint as a fake mercenary and extralegally stolen a bunch of valuable stuff back from HYDRA before Helen Cho patched him up again, but _God, he was an asshole._

“Sup, Brock,” she said dryly.

“Did you just ask me what was _up_? Honey, don’t flatter yourself,” he sniggered. Darcy’s taser hadn’t fit in her sequined party bag, so she couldn’t tase him. But she did have a drink.

“I’ll have another,” she told the bartender. Then she turned and poured her drink all over Rumlow. The Chambord made a pretty raspberry stain on his shirt. “Whoops,” she said. “I am _so_ sorry, my dude.”

“It’s fine, Miss Butterfingers,” Brock said. “I’ve got a second shirt.”

He turned on his heel and left. Darcy took her second drink to Jane and brought a regular martini for the tiny scientist. Darcy could not handle those. Too bitter. But Jane was tough, really. “Congratulations,” Jane said, beaming, “I saw the holiday drink toss. That was perfect. Asshole Rumlow really deserves to be tased, though.”

“It’s a life goal,” Darcy said.

A few minutes later, Darcy went out to the car to get her phone charger. She was walking across the lot towards Jane’s Civic when she realized a shirtless Brock was standing nearby, fumbling through a duffel bag. “Fuck,” he murmured.

“Problems?” she asked sarcastically.

“I can’t find my extra dress shirt. Must have left it at a woman’s,” he said. Darcy rolled her eyes. He pretended to be Mr. Macho Womanizer, but she guessed it was a bad case of overcompensation. Or he was probably dating Jack Rollins and had too much internalized homophobia or something.

“Wear a t-shirt, no one cares,” she said, moving to step around him.

“I care,” he said, turning abruptly. He stood very close to her, so his chest was at her eye level. His nipple was startlingly near her mouth,

“How are you not cold?” Darcy asked, incredulous. It was December 8th.

“I run warm, Lewis. Impressive, right?” Brock said. He was muscular: rows of visible muscle across his stomach, defined pectorals, solidly rounded biceps. Not as big and broad as Steve--she and Jane had ogled Captain America in Tony’s indoor pool--but more cut. Darcy was distracted by the prettiness of his clavicle and the bones of his neck and shoulders. They were like something out of Michelangelo, more beautiful than the showy, gym-honed abs. Her eyes drifted down. His low-slung pants revealed visible iliac muscles at his hips. He chuckled. “You like my cum gutters? Women love those,” he said.

“You’re such a frat boy,” Darcy said, thinking, _ok, that’s gross, I never want to hear those words together again_. “You make Tony Stark look like Prince Charming.”

“Why are you so uptight, sweetheart? You need a little something to help you relax? I’m happy to help you out,” he said teasingly as she walked away.

“I’m not uptight, I’m just not easy,” she replied. She was digging around in the Civic’s console when Darcy realized he’d thrown on a gym t-shirt and followed her. “Also, didn’t you just _you flatter yourself, Lewis_ to me not five minutes ago?” she asked, not looking up.

“C’mon, that was a joke,” he said. “Everyone knows I was kidding. You and Jane joke all the time with Cap.”

“There’s a difference between me flirting with Cap and calling him Captain Amazing and what you just did in there, my dude,” she told him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it--” he said.

“Whatever,” she said.

“You’re the one snubbing me. You snubbed me first,” he pointed out.

“I hadn’t said anything to you,” Darcy said.

“All you do is snub me. You think you’re too good to be friends with Crossbones?” he said. “Ever since you started at SHIELD--”

“I was warned that some people thought you were _really_ a terrorist, okay? Excuse me for merely being civil,” she said.

“Civil?” he scoffed.

“That’s what I’d call it,” she said, turning. He was standing close to her, nostrils flaring.

“Princess, you treat me just like you do Vision and I know you and Jane laugh at him and call him a creep when he’s not around,” he said.

“He is a creep,” Darcy said. She and Jane had been trying to pry Wanda from his inappropriately hovering grip.

“So, you think I’m a creep, too, huh?” he said, looking away..

“No, you’ve haven’t reached full-blown creep status yet, but you’re edging up on being a guy who does creepy things in parking lots,” she said sharply.

“Full blown?” he said, smirking.

“Annnd you’re there,” she said.

“I’m just saying, it’s an interesting choice of words,” he said. As she went to walk away, he yelled, “you know what your problem is?”

“You?” Darcy said.

“You’re afraid of real masculinity. You keep chasing these emasculated little boys like Braithewaite”--Darcy and Ian had been on and off for years--”because you want to boss them around, control them, but then you get bored, princess. You need a real man.”

Darcy turned and looked at him. “A real man?” she said.

“A real man,” he said. Darcy shrieked with laughter. She laughed for a full minute. He looked taken aback.

“I don’t have low self-esteem, my dude, your bro-psych doesn’t work on me, okay? Ian and I broke up last time because he wanted to do astrophysics in Greenland and I don’t like the cold. End of story,” Darcy.

“You would have gone if he’d kept you happy,” Brock said. “Given you what you need.”

“What is that, pray tell?” she said.

“Someone strong enough to let you be soft when you feel like it, Lewis. You’re a feminine woman,” he said. “Someone who challenges you, too. You need a challenge.” It was very difficult for Darcy not to laugh again.

“A challenge? How would you challenge me?” she asked. She’d purposefully made her voice quieter.

“See? You’re intrigued already. You want to know what it would feel like to be challenged, don’t you?” he said.

“So?” Darcy said. “Challenge me, Brock Rumlow.” She was calling his bluff. She didn’t think he had the nerve.

“Right here?” he said.

“Oh, yeah, right here, right now,” she said. “Unless you don’t really want to?” She put her hands on her hips expectantly.

“Oh, I do, princess, I do,” he said. Two steps later, he was kissing her against a car, pushing his body against hers.

He bent her over in the backseat of his SUV. “You ready?” Brock asked, turning off the overhead light above them. It was dark in this corner of the parking lot. He’d moved the SUV and turned the heat on, but she was still slightly cold. Darcy had goosebumps.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she snarked. It was chilly and she had zero patience. She heard him unzip his pants and felt a throbbing ache between her legs in response to the sound. He stroked her hips and lifted the long sweater she was wearing, so that her skin was revealed. “Condoms,” Darcy said, removing the sweater.

“Yeah,” he said. She watched as he got one and put it on. He was erect and larger than she expected, his skin a darker tone. He grinned at her. “You like my dick, honey?” he teased.

“Where is it?” she said sarcastically. “I need Jane’s telescope for micropenises.”

“Ohhh, that’s tough talk from somebody who’s gonna be screaming my name soon,” he said. He leaned over her without entering her; instead he rubbed his fingers over her clit for several moments. With his other hand, he pinched her cold nipple through her bra.

“Oooh,” Darcy said, turned on by the mixture of pleasure and slight pain. She could feel his erection brush against her and automatically leaned backwards. He chuckled.

“You’re wet already,” he said. “You want me. Were you wet when you poured that drink on me?”

“No,” Darcy said.

“I’ve been hard for ten minutes, watching you talk to everyone but me,” he said, kissing her back. “I don’t like being ignored by you.”

“You want my attention?” Darcy said, pulling in a breath with his first thrust. She moaned.

“I’m gonna make you follow me to Greenland, princess,” he said, digging his thumbs into her hips, so he could be a little rough.

“Sure I will,” she muttered, breathless. Her body jolted with his every movement. “Oh God, oh God.” _Shit_ , she thought, this actually feels good. Really good. He was hitting a sensitive spot inside her and she jerked and trembled in response. She collapsed her face and chest down unto the seat, feeling weak and boneless. The fabric against her cheek was cold and his hands were warm.

“You want me to stop?” he asked.

“No, no,” she said. “Don’t.” He kept moving and she moaned again. Darcy felt waves of pleasure, full-body shivering sensations that made her feel weak, followed by the urge to lean against him for more. “More,” she whispered.

“Uh-huh,” he said. Finally, he slumped beside her and pulled her against his chest. “Cold?” he said. “I probably have a blanket in the back.”

“No, that’s okay,” Darcy said, slowly emerging from her sex-fog and beginning to feel something between embarrassment and the word _what?_ “I should go,” she said. She reached for her winter leggings, still around her calves and yanked them up. She’d just had sex with asshat Rumlow. Jane was going to be so upset with her. “Have you--oh, there it is,” she said.

Her sweater was on the floor board. Googly-eyes Santa’s face looked up at her. His expression seemed faintly scolding.


	2. Maybe One More Elf?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your funny comments!

“So, Darce, how drunk were you last night?” Jane said, as they walked to her lab at SHIELD’s new headquarters.

“Not as drunk as whoever scheduled a Christmas party on a Wednesday, so all these hungover people would have to come into work today. Most of them have guns,” Darcy said. She wasn’t going to admit that she was a teensy bit sore, though. Even her thighs felt a little shaky from kneeling. Nobody needed to know that. Nope. Nope. Not even Jane. They rounded the corner in front of Jane’s lab. It had a glass wall. SHIELD’s big new theme was “transparency,” which was really funny to Darcy, less so to Jane. She felt watched. She muttered about it. So, Darcy had strung or taped Dollar Store holiday decorations all over the inside of the glass and then ignored all the pointed memos from HR about it. She’d made sure her decorations were either inter-faith or secular, just in case they decided to get more pointed.

“I can’t believe you slept with _him_ ,” Jane said.

“That’s the fifth time you said that today,” Darcy said mildly. “Should I add more tinsel garland to our glass wall?”

“I have a Michaels coupon?” Jane offered.

“Michaels is pricey, the cheap ones are uglier and more offensive to HR,” Darcy said; Jane nodded solemnly.

“Where did you find those horrible foil elves? Have they always been there?” Jane asked, frowning. She tended not to notice things when deep into her Science!

“I put them up last week, they’re from Big Lots,” Darcy said.

“They’re so ugly!” Jane said.

“I know, isn’t it great? Technically, I think they’re cake pan covers,” Darcy said. They grinned at each other.

“I thought you hated him,” Jane said abruptly, as she unlocked the door. It was glass, too.

“There’s a thin light between hate and sex in the backse---” Darcy stopped, staring at her desk. There was a large red wrapped present with a big green bow.

“How did someone get in?” Jane said.

“You don’t think it’s a bomb, do you?” Darcy said, backing up. Jane sometimes got anti-science hate mail or had weirdo admirers.

“It’s very nicely wrapped for a bomb,” Jane said. “Still, I’ll call Steve.” Thor was on Asgard. He was bringing them back a genuine Asgardian Christmas tree.

Steve arrived--in a tight t-shirt--two minutes later. “Step back,” he said formally. He crept up to the package, cocking his head to one side. He looked at something on the top and went very still.

“Can he hear a bomb?” Darcy whispered.

“Maybe?” Jane said.

“Get back!” Steve yelled. They fled the lab as he threw himself over the box. Darcy was running and almost yelling when she heard Jane behind her.

“Very funny, Steve,” she said. Darcy turned. Steve was standing in the lab doorway, unhurt, and grinning.

“So, Darce,” he said, “why is Brock Rumlow sending you presents with a note about meeting him at lunch in _the parking garage_?” His smile was beaming.

“Oh, mannnnnnn,” Darcy said, doing her best Meg Ryan impression. It involved clutching your stomach and saying “oh, mannnnn” and trying to be adorably lactose intolerant, to avoid conversation. She’s stolen it from _French Kiss._ She loved that movie. It was Kevin Kline, she realized, who’d imprinted her with a love of difficult assholes. All French men--even fake ones played by Americans--seemed to be highly opinionated like that. They had capital-o Opinions about food, politics, relationships between women and men, everything. Brock Rumlow probably had Opinions, too. Opinions about food were her kryptonite. “Jane, help,” Darcy said.

“She slept with him last night,” Jane supplied.

“Jane!” Darcy said.

“Last night, huh? And he sent you a present today? Fast work, Darce,” Steve said, handing her the note. It did say _Meet me downstairs at noon, parking garage A?_

“I can’t believe you told Captain America!” Darcy said.

“What? He’ll hear you in the parking garage anyway,” Jane said.

“Bat ears,” Darcy muttered.

“Are you blushing? Do you like him?” Steve asked,

“No, uh, I didn’t want anybody to know, ok?” Darcy said.

“You told me as soon as you came back from the parking lot,” Jane whispered.

“Parking lot?” Steve said.

“At the party,” Jane supplied.

“Uh-huh,” Steve said, grinning.

“Maybe I’m not going to the parking garage,” Darcy said, tromping back into the lab. “That sounds like a murder date, anyway. Parking garages are creepy.”

“He’s a little creepy,” Jane said. “Walks around in sunglasses all the time.”

“His eyes are still a little sensitive to light from the burns,” Darcy explained.

“How do you know?” Jane said.

“He told me once,” she said, staring at the box.

“When?” Jane said.

“Jack Rollins’ birthday party at that Mexican place--when they brought out the fried ice cream cake with all the candles,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” Jane said.

“He should tell Helen Cho, she’s the one who healed him, she ought to know,” Steve said. “Medical responsibility and all that.”

“Yeah, he hates doctors,” Darcy said.

“Did he tell you that at Jack’s birthday party, too?”Jane said, laughing.

“No, this was last week, in the breakroom,” she said, still staring.

“Why don’t you see what it is?” Steve said mildly.

“You just want to know,” Dracy said.

“Yep,” he said, grinning. She unwrapped the present box. Inside was a box of mini chocolate chip cookies and a Christmas sweatshirt. This one had a pattern of lights, cookies, and milk and said _I Put Out For Santa_ in big letters.

“I put out for Santa?” Jane said loudly over Darcy’s shoulder.

“Shhhhh!” Darcy said.

“Oh, Jane, I’m so glad you called me,” Steve said, laughing. “So glad.”

“That--” Darcy began. She looked up to realize Jane was shaking with laughter. “Hey, not funny!” Darcy said.

“It so is funny,” Jane said, wiping her eyes.

  
***

At noon, Darcy went downstairs. “Brock Rumlow,” she fumed, once she’d caught sight of him leaning against an SUV, “I am going to kill you.” She took a little swing at him, he laughed, caught her arm and grinned.

“That’s a crime. Your threatened me and took a swing. I’m a federal agent. I could press charges,” he said.

“I’ll tell you where to press your charges,” she said, trying to sound mad and somehow stumbling into a double-entendre. His grin widened.

“Where, princess?” he said. He popped open the backdoor of the SUV.

“I hate you,” Darcy muttered a few minutes later. She was underneath him. He’d insisted he wanted to kiss her some this time and seemed to drawing out the foreplay so they’d get caught. Or her lunch break would end and she’d go back to the lab all hot and bothered. He was sneaky.

“So, I shouldn’t do that ear thing you like again?” he asked, nuzzling her face.

“No,” she said, sighing.

“Is that a yes or a no? I’m confused,” he said teasingly.

“Just do it again, you schmuck,” she said. Maybe a second time would be enough. She really liked that ear thing. Also, he was practically grinding against her now.

“Sure,” he said, trailing kisses towards her ear.

“This is highly unprofessional. Half of STRIKE Charlie just walk---oh. Oh God. Ooooohhhhh. I love that,” Darcy said. She shivered and he chuckled.

“What was that?” he asked. She popped him on the back of the head a little.

“Don’t stop now,” she hissed. “I’m really close.”

“You’re bossy,” he said. “But don’t forget I’m the boss.” He kissed the side of her face slowly, then moved back to her ear. Darcy would have rolled her eyes, but she was...distracted. Yeah, that was it.

“Oh God,” she muttered, gripping his hair and squeezing her thighs involuntarily.

“I’ll take that, too,” he said wryly.

“My lunch break is almost over and all you’ve done is give me love bites,” she complained at twelve-forty. He had his hand under her shirt and was still kissing her neck. She was sure her mouth was all swollen and pink.

“Love bites? That a fancy name for hickeys, princess?” he said. “That what they call them in princess land?”

“What is princess land?” she said, slightly irritated that he kept calling her that. So what if her mom had once bought her a tiara from the craft store as a joke and taken her photo in it asleep? And she was in college, not five?

“That Disney castle you grew up in, where good little girls smell like vanilla ice cream and candy and own lots of glitter, baby,” he said. “Even your hair smells like candy.”

“Excuse me,” she said. “It’s a limited edition holiday shampoo and it’s scented like sugared jasmine and berries.” He burst out laughing.

“This is not helping your case,” he said, tapping her nose. “Does Foster want you back at one exactly?”

“More or less? She doesn’t eat unless I monitor. Why?” Darcy said.

“I can make you come in eight minutes,” he said confidently, sliding her leggings down to her ankles.

“Whaaa--” Darcy began, as he unbuttoned his pants and put on a condom. He kissed her gently as he eased his weight back on top of her, spreading her legs. “Ohhhhh,” Darcy said.

“Good?” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, but winced as he rocked his hips.

“You’re sore,” he said, looking down at her seriously.

“A little,” she admitted.

“I’ll be easy,” he said softly. “Poor little princess.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said.

“This is what happens when you’re only with little boys,” he snarked.

“So,” Jane teased, “did you enjoy lunch?”

“Please don’t make me say yes and then give you details, you know I will,” Darcy said. She sat at her desk and tried not to get distracted by fantasies about him: the drag of his stubble against her thighs, the taste of him, all the places they _could_ be sneaking off to at work.

“Is that a hickey?” Jane asked.

“Kill me now,” Darcy groaned, slumping face first onto her desk.

***

She didn’t see him or hear from him for a day. For some killjoy reason, the same consultants who’d given SHIELD their new transparency-themed architecture had also recommended teamwork seminars, which were tragically held on Friday afternoons. Jane and Darcy had started calling them “pep rallies” sarcastically. Today’s speaker was a wellness expert.

Jane and Darcy took seats and draped their scarves over their laps (to hide their phones). “Words with Friends?” Jane asked. They usually played games.

“Ye—um,” Darcy said. Brock had walked in with Jack Rollins. In all black tactical gear.

“Yum?” Jane teased quietly. “Did you just spontaneously _yum_ at him?”

“No,” Darcy said.

“You did,” Jane said. As they sat there Brock and Jack ascended into the auditorium seats. Darcy half-assumed he would sit with her, but he kept walking. That stung a little. “Okay, I’m pissed now,” Jane said.

“Whatever,” Darcy muttered. The speaker began. She was wearing lavender and did big hand gestures.

“Hoooow can you maintain an attitude of wellbeing in a stressful work situation?” she asked.

She was talking in soothing tones about calming activities when one of the STRIKE Charlie guys yelled, “What about sex? Always keeps me calm?” There were bursts of laughter. Down front, Maria Hill and Steve did Disappointed Faces.

“Ooh, there it is,” Darcy said in a whisper.

“I can’t believe he taught it to Maria,” Jane said quietly.

“Hey, Rumlow, I heard that was your secret, too. Is it all the hot chicks keeping you calm in a stressful job?” someone behind them asked jokingly.

“Quiet, Williamson,” Jack Rollins said. He was a Cap fan.

“I get plenty of calm,” Darcy heard Brock say wryly. Jane raised an eyebrow at Darcy. Darcy micro-shrugged. It wasn’t like they were a couple for real or anything.

At the end of the pep rally, Darcy and Jane saw Sharon Carter talking to Cameron Klein. Sharon was one of their drinking buddies and had helped them navigate SHIELD office politics when they’d started in DC. Darcy waved and the two of them went down to meet her and Cam. “Fun, huh?” Sharon said.

“A riot,” Jane said. They shared a mutual eye roll about the guy from STRIKE Charlie. People resented these meetings, so they acted out.

“I thought Cap was going to lose it,” Cameron said admiringly. He was a Cap fan, too.

“Yeah,” Sharon said, glancing at Steve wistfully. Steve was talking to Maria. Darcy felt sympathetic. Poor Sharon was stuck in an odd limbo: she and Steve had a minor flirtation vibe when she’d been secretly assigned by Fury to live in his building, but the reveal that she was Peggy’s great-niece had made Steve hesitate. He didn’t think it was proper to pursue her, given his history with Peggy. They were both still wildly attracted to each other, however. There was a ton of smoldering tension. Just as Sharon looked at Steve, he glanced their way. Darcy knew it was terrible to be so enthralled, but it was more fun to watch than a soap opera or a mini-series. They were doing that ‘I look at you, you look away, I look away, you look at me’ game right now. Darcy caught Steve looking naughtily at Sharon, who kept touching her own neck and hair. “So,” Cameron said to them, “would you like to get a drink with us?”

“Sure, we’d love to,” Jane said, covering for Darcy’s checking out of the conversation to rubberneck at Rogers-Carter 2.0 flirting.

“Yeah, love to,” Darcy supplied, playing along.

“Hey, Jack, would you guys like to go, too?” Cameron said. That was when Darcy realized he and Brock were descending the aisle behind her.

“Sure, mate,” Jack said cheerfully. He was Australian and always cheerful. Almost as cheerful as Thor.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Brock said dryly.

That was how Darcy found herself sitting at a DC restaurant with Brock--and a half-dozen other people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I Put Out for Santa" sweaters exist: https://www.etsy.com/listing/656223141/funny-ugly-christmas-sweater-i-put-out?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=i+put+out+for+santa&ref=sr_gallery-1-22&organic_search_click=1&pro=1&frs=1&col=1


	3. Am I Your Present?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“It’ll be fine," Cameron told Darcy reassuringly.

“What?” Darcy said. They had snagged a desirable bar table for the group and then Steve, Brock, and Jack had gone to the bar for drinks. It had to be Steve’s idea, because Brock wasn’t that polite. Or Jack’s. Jack was polite. It was busy and noisy at happy hour.

“I’ll sit next to you, so you and Rumlow don’t fight again,” Cameron said loudly.

“We fight?” Darcy asked.

“Umm, yeah,” Sharon said. “It’s weird, because he gets along with everyone else. Something about you just starts drama.”

“Like cats and dogs,” Cameron said. “You’re notorious for scrapping.”

“So, you’re saying it’s me?” Darcy asked. Jane hid a smirk.

“No, no, it’s not _you_ , you’re great,” Sharon said. “It’s the both of you in proximity?”

“Exactly,” Cameron said. “You need to be kept apart, you know?”

“Fury even sent a memo out about me not sitting you together at today’s meeting,” Hill said. “I’d told him to keep his distance, so I thought he would skip this.”

“What?” Darcy said. “I mean, we bicker, but”—

“You threw a drink on him at the Christmas party?” Sharon said.

“Sure, but I don’t—,” Darcy began, before the three men returned to the table with an armload of drinks. She hadn’t ordered anything, intending to stay sober, but Brock set a French martini in front of her and then slid a chair from a nearby table next to hers. On her other side, Darcy heard Cameron make a sad noise. Maria frowned.

“Something wrong?” Brock asked.

“No, Commander Rumlow, I just thought you could tell me some mission stories?” Cameron asked politely.

“Sure, sure,” Brock said.

“Tell the Chinese mission story,” Steve said wryly from the other end of the table. “Back when you were doing Crossbones work. What was your code name again?”

“It was an interesting job. I was basically looking for stolen Chitauri guns in West Africa, but my cover was that I was a big bad American imperialist trying to destabilize some governments,” Brock said. Everyone had to lean to hear him and he pitched his voice louder than normal.

“Oh, I remember all that, I just couldn’t recall your code name?” Steve said. He was trolling, Darcy realized.

“Big Daddy,” Brock yelled, grinning.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said.

“What?” he said.

“I cannot believe that was your actual code name and you’re not embarrassed,” Darcy said.

“Why should I be embarrassed?” he said.

“Well, I would never tell anyone my codename was Big Mama,” she said.

“Lewis, you’re clearly a Little Mama,” he said dryly. Under the table, he rubbed her thigh and she tried not to respond. It took her a second to get her face under control. He grinned slyly.

“Short jokes?” she said archly. “From you?”

“Guys,” Maria said, “can we not tonight?”

“Not what?” Brock said. The hand on Darcy’s thigh went still.

“Your constant arguing is a morale problem,” Maria said. Steve was looking at the ceiling, Darcy realized. Brock resumed stroking her thigh.

“I don’t think we’re arguing, it’s more like--” Darcy began.

“Flirting,” Brock said.

“What?” Cameron said.

“Lewis craves my attention,” Brock said.

“Excuse me? _I_ crave your attention?” she said.

“Sure,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” Darcy said.

“Lewis,” he said, “it’s obvious that you want me, badly.”

“Rumlow,” Maria said warningly. “We’ve all had enough.”

“Fine, Maria,” he said. There was a moment of tension at the table. Darcy couldn’t look at Jane; she was afraid one of them would laugh. Steve took the opportunity to tell a funny story about their last mission, trying to break the tension and probably get a blushing Sharon to laugh. Everyone’s attention was focused on Captain America and Agent Carter.

“That’s flirting,” Darcy whispered to Brock when Sharon reached out to touch Steve’s arm, “in case you were confused.”

“I like my way better,” he said. “Don’t you?” He slipped his hand to the apex of her thighs.

“Someone will see,” Darcy whispered.

“I don’t mind,” he said. He stopped a bar waitress.

“Yes, sir?” the waitress said.

“You’re hungry, right? You didn’t eat lunch,” he said to Darcy. “I’m hungry. You do grilled cheese here, right?” he asked the waitress. When she said yes, he ordered them food.

“Are you allowed to do that in the bar?” Darcy said.

“I’m sure it’s fine, right?” Brock asked the waitress.

“Yes,” the waitress said, blushing.

“Anybody else want food?” Brock asked. The waitress circled the table. When she finally walked away, Brock grinned at Darcy.

“She thinks I’m cute,” he said in a whisper. “You not worried about that?”

“Shut up,” Darcy said more loudly. Cameron looked over in concern.

“Everything’s fine, Cam,” Brock said, stroking Darcy’s thigh again. Then he told her more crazy stories about being “Big Daddy” in China. It was slightly insane. She was very doubtful that a box-spring mattress could really stop a small grade rocket, but no one else was paying attention to them, as he talked quietly. Eventually, he pulled out his phone. “I’ve got great photos of this.”

“Is that allowed?” Darcy said.

“Princess, everything’s allowed when you don’t get caught,” he said. They were photos of him, looking especially mean and almost haughty, as he posed next to a tank of large snakes.

“You kept snakes?” Darcy said, horrified. “Why?”

“It was part of my cover,” he said.

“Part of your cover?” she said.

“It looked cool,” he told her.

“And the keffiyeh?” she said.

“The what?” he said.

“That scarf, it’s an Arab scarf. Arafat wore those, they’re symbols of Palestinian resistance, sometimes,” she said.

“Not this time,” he chuckled. “I was just a grade-A dirtbag.” He grinned and leaned close to her ear, whispering. “You think I Iook good?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, trying to rein in her blush. He only removed his hand when she got up to go to the bathroom. Jane followed her, looking perplexed.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked, not realizing Steve was coming out of the men’s room at the same time.

“Hi,” Steve said.

“I have no idea,” Darcy said. Steve grinned.

“I think you’re on a date with Brock, Darce,” he said.

“No way,” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” Steve said. “Sure.” He walked towards Sharon, beaming.

“Totally in denial about Sharon,” Darcy hissed.

“I heard that!” Steve called back.

“Do you think it’s a date?” Darcy asked Jane when they were alone in the bathroom.

“I have no idea,” Jane said. “Why not ask him?”

“I can’t ask him!” Darcy said.

Was it a date, she wondered, as they returned to the table. Brock was talking to Jack, telling the box-spring mattress rocket story. If it was a date, it was a weird date, she thought, as she sat back down. Brock put his hand on her knee until the food came. Thankfully, it was really good food, so she could concentrate on that.

“You want another drink?” he asked, after they finished eating.

“No, I really should go home. I have,” she paused, “things to do.” Jane was giving her glances across the table that translated as _stay or go?_

“You washing your hair? I’d be happy to help,” he said in a low voice. Darcy pushed away a fantasy involving him and her bathtub and shook her head.

“No, I really should grab that waitress and pay, though--” Darcy began. She wanted to settle her bill.

“I got it,” he said casually. “If you’ve got things to do, you can go ahead.”

“No, I wouldn't want you to spend money--” she began.

“You can catch me up later, it’s no big deal,” he said. So, she left with Jane.

“What’s that face?” Jane asked, when they got to the sidewalk. She was the sober designated driver, so she was possibly more alert than anyone but Steve at the table.

“I have no idea what’s going on with me and Brock,” Darcy admitted.

Later that night, Darcy was wrapping presents and making popcorn when there was a knock on her door. It was after eleven and she wasn’t expecting anybody. She peered through the peephole. Brock was standing on her apartment’s little porch. He had a six pack and something else tucked under his arm. “I thought you might need some help with that shampoo?” he said through the door.

“Is this a booty call, Big Daddy?” Darcy asked when she opened the door. He grinned.

“Yeah, princess,” he said. “But I brought some girly booze for you.” It was almond champagne. She loved almond champagne. He’d probably heard her mention that sometime, Darcy thought.

“Come in,” she said, deciding that almond champagne and sex were worth the trade off in personal dignity. He smirked. “I’m making popcorn,” she told him, rolling her eyes.

He looked at her wrapping paper mess and her glittering Christmas tree. “Wrapping presents, too, huh?”

“Want to help?” she said.

“Sure. Unless you want to have sex under the Christmas tree first?” Brock asked.

“Champagne first,” Darcy said.

He was pouring her a glass when he spoke suddenly. “You shouldn’t let work shit get to you,” he said. “It’s just gossip.”

“People think we hate each other,” Darcy said. He grinned.

“Yeah,” he said, leading her to the couch.

“Why are you grinning?” she asked, baffled.

“Most people don’t get passion. That energy? It scares them, makes them nervous. They confuse intensity of feeling for negativity. Everybody wants neat relationships with all these little boxes checked off, their dating questions. We have passion,” he told her.

“Passion,” Darcy repeated, looking at her champagne. Did he think this was a real relationship? She was puzzled. He was eating popcorn and smiled at her.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning over to kiss her neck. “You feel it?”

“Um-hmm,” she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning into him a fraction. She could definitely feel things. She’d just assumed they were casual things.

“Let’s get you under that tree, princess,” he said.

“I am I your present?” Darcy teased.

“Yeah,” he said, “you’re my present.”

“It’s pretty,” Darcy admitted, as she looked up through the tree branches. He’d carried her over to the tree and put her under it. She was on her back on the carpet, with her head under the lowest branches of the Christmas tree. The white lights reflected differently from this angle. They reminded her of the bubbles in her champagne glass. “Really pretty,” she told him. Between her legs, Brock was sliding down her pajama bottoms. He removed them. He was still half-dressed. She’d taken his shirt off to admire his muscles.

“You’re pretty,” he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on her belly and looking between her legs with a kind of intense fascination. He stroked her thigh again

“Are you complimenting me on my ladybusiness?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a repeat customer.” Darcy snorted. He kissed the inside of her thighs in response.

“Mmm,” Darcy said, wiggling to encourage him.

“Would you do something for me?” Brock asked.

“Hmm?” she asked.

“If I bring you something, will you wear it?” he asked.

“You want to wrap your present?” Darcy said, laughing.

“Yeah, baby,” he said.

“Wait,” Darcy said, wiggling out from under the tree. She had some lingerie she’d bought for Ian and never worn.

“Where are you going?” Brock asked, helping her to her feet.

“Wrapping your present,” she said cheerfully. “Give me five minutes.You should probably take your pants off.”

She re-appeared in the doorway in a pink babydoll. It barely contained her assets and the bottom half was sheer pink tulle. He sucked in a breath. “Princess,” he said, “that looks good.” He licked his lips. “Turn around for me?”

“Like this?” Darcy said. She twirled obligingly. He groaned.

“I’m so hard right now,” he said. “C’mere.” He held his arms out. He taken off his clothes while she was gone, so she paused to touch him, running her hands down his body. She cupped him with her hands and he made a noise and that was half a laugh, half a moan. “Get down there,” he said.

“You don’t want to see my bedroom?” she asked.

“Nuh-uh, I’m unwrapping my present under the tree,” he said. He still wanted to make love under the tree, for some reason. He was very into it. He spread her legs, stripping away her underwear, and brushing her thighs with kisses. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. She was surprised when he buried his face in her core in response. Brock lapped at her with his tongue, sliding it in between the soft folds of her sex and against her clit. He was very into this, too, she realized. “Oh God, oh God,” Darcy said, “that feels so good. It’s incredible. Brock—Brock,” she repeated. She was breathless. Her thighs jerked in response to his movements. He grinned up at her, mouth slick.

“You like that, princess? You taste good. I can keep doing this for a long time,” he said.

He didn’t lie: she was fully undone—sweaty, flushed, near-babbling—when he finally lifted his face away, wiped his mouth with his arm, and then put on a condom to settle himself on top of her. “Ohhhh,” Darcy said, as he pressed into her. She held onto him as he moved in and out of her vigorously. “I’m going have carpet burns,” Darcy said, moaning. He laughed.

“You shouldn’t have changed, baby, you brought this on yourself,” he said in her ear.

“Oh did I?” Darcy said.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t see straight,” Brock said.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, as he increased his pace. Above her the lights twinkled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen Frank Grillo play Big Daddy in Wolf Warrior 2--it's a wild Chinese action film where he's the villain and it grossed like a bajillion-zillion dollars--he chews scenery in the best possible way. Last I checked, it was on Hulu. It's really pro-China nationalist movie in the vein of, like, Rambo, so Grillo is the Evil American mercenary working against the Chinese hero: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dta9YEa3xZA


	4. What Happens Under The Tree...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your great comments and kudos.

She woke up wrapped in her quilt on the floor. He must’ve gotten pillows and the quilt off her bed. He was asleep, snoring gently. It gave her ideas. Was he one of those guys who woke up ready? She looked under the blanket. Yes, definitely. She crawled under the covers, kissing his belly. She’d never woken a guy up like this before, but she had a feeling he would like it. She trailed her mouth down over his belly and thighs, hoping for more of that physical response, then retrieved a condom from his pants. He shifted slightly as she put it on him and she almost laughed. His expression was totally relaxed and open. “So, the brooding sex face is fake?” she asked his penis. “We’ll keep that between us,” Darcy said, leaning down. He stirred after a few moments and lifted his head.

“Wha--Oh Christ,” he muttered. His confusion turned to smirk. “That feels so good. So good.” As she moved her head, he ran his hands through the ends her hair. “You’re amazing, princess,” he said in a warm voice. “Oh, oh God, marry me. Wait--I didn’t me--,” he stuttered. He sounded a little panicky. She shifted and he groaned. “Oh God. Yes, I did. Fuck. Marry me, Lewis,” he said. Darcy would have laughed, had she been able to. She was certain he didn’t mean it at all, which made it more hilarious, somehow. She couldn’t let the moment pass without comment.

“Well, you’ve done it now,” she said, after she’d released him.

“Don’t stop,” he said, a hint of a plea in his voice. “Do it again.”

“Hmm,” she said, considering.

“Get up here, then, godammit,” he said. She crawled up his body slowly, trailing kisses up his torso and pausing to look at him. Brock was easy to admire. His tanned body was incredibly chiseled: broad shoulders and strong biceps, rows of abdominal muscles, that stunning Adonis belt. Even his legs were attractive. It was like he had refined himself down to the purest version of masculine appeal. He wasn't just desirable, he was beautiful, she realized. That was the right word. He had none of that weird, too-tanned meatiness you sometimes saw with bodybuilders, a quality that Darcy found off-putting and vaguely creepy for reasons she couldn't quite explain. But she could look at him all day. "Hey," he said. "What are you doing?" She'd been running her hand over his abs and gazing dreamily at his torso. _Whoops._

“You wanted something?” she said with mock-innocence. He put his hands on her hips.

“You want to be on top?’ he asked.

“No,” she said, “you do the work.” She wanted to look at him some more.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you pay for that,” he said.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she said. She rolled over on her back and he climbed on top of her. She was thrown when he kissed her first. It was a slow, lingering kiss, weighted with some meaning she didn’t understand. Charged, rather than sweet. He stared at her. “What?” she whispered.

“You ready to follow me to Greenland yet?” he asked.

“I need more persuasion,” she said, biting her lip to hide a grin. She couldn't tell him how she was feeling; she didn't even know herself. He made love to her slowly, almost lazily, planting long kisses on her face. He was holding back, barely moving his hips, instead of his usual aggressive, passionate movement.

“You want more? Ask me for more,” he said.

“Nuh-uh,” she said. He wanted her to beg, she realized. Did he want to re-establish dominance or something?

“I can do this a long time, princess,” he said, cupping her jaw and kissing her again. He kept moving slowly, watching her face. When she closed her eyes, he would pause, then thrust again lazily when she opened them. “More?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. He kept playing the game with her. It was oddly relaxing. She even dozed briefly.

“Wake up,” he said, sucking at her bottom lip.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. Finally, he increased the pace and roughness of his thrusts, surging between her legs and pushing her to orgasm abruptly. He followed her to climax, then got up. “Where are you going?” she said.

“Why, did you want follow me?” he asked.

“Phhft,” she said. He went to the bathroom and she heard him washing up a minute later. Darcy closed her eyes. When he came back in his boxers, he walked past her and stepped over her body. He sort of commandeered her kitchen and made coffee.

“Eggs?” he said, looking in the fridge.

“I only like them in cake batter,” Darcy said. She finally got up when he’d made her toast and was cooking bacon.

“Chewy bacon or crunchy?” he asked.

“Chewy,” Darcy said, reaching for a slice.

“That’s hot,” he scolded. “Let it cool.”

“Bossy,” she muttered.

“Tell me about your self-defense training?” he asked suddenly.

“Tase and run?” Darcy said. He frowned. Which was unsurprising, Darcy thought. He probably spent hours in the gym every week with his body. It was an incredible body, after all.

She was more surprised that he seemed to want to hang around her apartment that day. “You don’t have to go to the gym?” she asked, when he’d taken a shower and dressed in yesterday’s clothes while she was doing stuff in the kitchen. She was making Christmas cookie bars for Thor. He was supposed to be back soon and they were his favorite. Well, he also liked her preacher cake, her Coca Cola cake, her Island Pecan pie, her chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, and her whoopie pies. Thor wasn’t picky.

“No. You bake?” Brock asked, watching her dump in holiday M&Ms, pretzels, and nuts.

“I love baking, but I don’t do it unless Thor is around, otherwise I eat too much and get more puffy,” she said, poking at her belly. She was a little puffy from the alcohol and grilled cheese yesterday. He looked at her without any expression.

“You doing anything after this?” he said.

“Nope. Why?” she asked.

“We’re going somewhere,” he said. “You won’t be able to wear your pajamas though.”

“Booooo,” Darcy said. “Wait, is this fancy somewhere?”

“Nope,” he said.

“Well, where is it?” she said.

“That’s a surprise,” he said. But he made her change into stretchy pants and sneakers, so she assumed they’d be walking. She sort of hoped for a museum or the zoo, except it was cold.

She was floored when he took her to a gym. “You have a second gym membership?” she said. She knew he and the STRIKE guys had their own work gym.

“Technically, I have three: work, a Brazilian jujitsu place, and this. This is a boxing gym, princess,” he said. “I box here.” Darcy looked around. It was definitely a dude sort of place: no treadmills, no women in yoga pants on ellipticals. She was the only girl there on a Saturday afternoon. “Hey, Tommy,” he called as they walked into the main room. “Tommy owns this place,” he told Darcy.

“Hello,” Darcy said.

“Hi, honey. You brought a friend today?” Tommy asked Brock.

“No, I grabbed her off the street,” Brock cracked. There was laughter and joking throughout the room. “This is Darcy, she works with me.”

“Hey, Tommy,” someone called, “if he kidnapped her, you owe me thirty bucks.”

“Very funny, asshole,” Tommy said. “She need gloves?”

“Yeah,” Rumlow said. “Put ‘em on my account.”

“I need gloves? I’m not watching you box?” Darcy said. Tommy seemed to find that really funny.

“Oh, she’s cute,” he said. “Would you have really watched him box, sweetheart?” Darcy shrugged.

“I have a phone, I’d at least pretend to,” she told Tommy. He and several other guys laughed.

“You need gloves and shoes. You’re gonna learn some basic things today,” Brock told her. Basic things turned out to be warm-up stretches, jumping rope, how to land when you fell jumping rope, how to wrap your hands, the names of boxing things, and more jumping rope. Just the jumping rope left Darcy drenched with sweat and out of breath.

“You’re killing me,” she groaned.

“You need to work on your cardiovascular health,” he told her seriously.

“Whyyyyyyy?” Darcy whined, more rhetorically than seriously. A passing Tommy laughed. “Tommy, help, he’s murdering me,” Darcy said. “I’m gonna drown in my own sweat.”

“You want me to call 911, sweetheart?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, this is murder one, totally premeditated,” Darcy said.

“C’mon,” Brock said, “I’ll show you how to position your feet and then you can hit me a little.”

“Finally, I get to hit somebody! I wanted it to be you,” Darcy told him.

“I like this girl,” Tommy said. “You know, you’re the first girl he’s brought home?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Brock said.

“Tough talk from somebody who’s still got all his teeth,” Tommy said.

“I don’t let people hit me in the face, that’s how I got to keep my teeth,” Brock shot back. “I win my fights.”

“Not the face! Not the face!” a guy hitting one of the big bags joked. He grinned at Darcy. His nose was all squished. “Pretty Boy over there protects his face.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brock said. “You ready to hit me, Lewis?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. Sadly, Darcy was woefully inadequate at hitting people. She didn’t have Jane’s natural gift and could barely make contact with the thick pads he used to protect himself. Ostensibly protect himself. Mostly, he just laughed when Darcy swung, grazed the pad, and almost fell over. “Boxing is hard,” she said, when he told her to take a break. She guzzled water.

“You ready to call it a day?” he asked.

“Oh, God, yes, I’m dying,” Darcy said. She really did almost die when she saw the price of her new gloves, as they were leaving and he was paying. “Two hundred and fifty dollars for gloves and a hundred bucks for shoes? You cannot pay for that,” she said.

“You gonna stop me? You can’t even hit the pads,” Brock teased. “We’ll see you next week, Tommy!” he called over his shoulder.

“We?” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You just picked up a new hobby.”

“Jumping rope badly?” Darcy said, utterly baffled that he wanted her to learn this stuff.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need Epsom salts and pineapple juice for your bruises, you fall down a lot,” he said. He stopped at a drugstore and bought a huge bag of salts, then at a grocery store on the way back to her place. She dozed in the car. She was exhausted. Fit people must be tired all the time, she thought.

“This is my favorite part of today,” Darcy said, sighing, when he got her into the tub with the Epsom salts as soon as they got back. He laughed, then disappeared. "Where are you going?" she said.

"Nowhere, princess," he said. He checked on her after twenty minutes or so. “I came to see if you’d drowned,” he said.

“Let’s warm up the water and you get in with me? Pleeeease?” she said, reaching her hands out and doing a grabby motion like a baby asking for Cheerios.

“You’re all sweaty. Besides I got things to do,” he said.

“You’re leaving?” Darcy said, disappointed.

“Oh, look at that sad face. Princess, are you sad?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she said. “I don’t know why I’d miss you, all you’ve done is torture me. I’m much nicer to you.”

“I haven’t forgotten how nice you’ve been lately,” he said, chuckling. He brought her a glass of pineapple juice, kissed her forehead, and left. “I’m locking your deadbolt behind me,” he told her.

“How?” she said.

“SHIELD trick,” he said. “Classified. I’ll call you, baby.”

When she got out of the tub a few minutes later, she realized he’d left her food in the fridge: some sort of paleo meal from the grocery store with a note about warming it in the oven. She would have scorned it normally, but she was too tired. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. She could live with grilled chicken, veggies, and sesame zoodles.

“You did what?” Jane said, when they talked on the phone on Sunday.

“Well, I didn’t really box. Not really. I mostly jumped-rope and learned how to fall down safely, but my whole body hurts now,” Darcy said. She was sprawled on her couch.

“Why would he take you to a boxing gym?” Jane said, sounding baffled.

“I have no idea. No idea,” Darcy said. “I’m gonna put you on speaker, so I can belly crawl to the coffee maker, because walking is painful. Should I take Tylenol? I soaked in Epsom salts today already.”

“I don’t know, you won’t let me take kickboxing,” Jane said.

“Because you hit people enough,” Darcy said, sitting up slowly. If she was very careful, she could rise slowly off the couch. She got halfway up and her body said _no no no_ , so Darcy sat down with a thunk. She was successful on the second attempt and was standing when Jane spoke again

“You could at least let me have a gun,” Jane said, as Darcy moved very slowly.

“Nuh-uh. I’m the one most likely to be shot during a Science Rage incident, no guns for you,” Darcy scolded. “I still remember how you tried to wrestle that flash drive away from Coulson.”

“I wouldn’t shoot you,” Jane said.

“Awww, you really love me?” Darcy said, inching carefully towards the kitchen.

“Who would get my coffee if you were dead?” Jane snarked.

“You little bitch,” Darcy said.

“Oooooh, language,” Jane said.

“My whole body feels like it’s dying, I need to use language, it’s important,” Darcy said.

“Your new boyfriend is going to kill you,” Jane said.

But Darcy didn’t hear from him at all on Sunday or before she went in to work on Monday. Instead, she let in her neighbor’s Maine Coon cat when it climbed onto her window still. The very imperious Miss Fluffy was less pleased with her, however; she had befriended Thor and was clearly hoping to see the Asgardian again. Darcy and a very sleepy Jane were on the elevator Monday morning with coffee and muffins when one of the women they liked from Logistics on floor three stepped on with them. “Hi, Lisa!” Darcy said.

“Hi!” she said. “Hello, Jane.”

“Huhhhh,” Jane mumbled.

“Don’t mind Jane, she’s not entirely awake yet, she’ll be fine once I start her coffee IV,” Darcy explained. She’d leaned Jane against the corner of the elevator, _Weekend at Bernie’s_ style. Lisa laughed

“So,” Lisa said, “you and Rumlow are dating?”

“What?” Darcy said, nearly dropping the pumpkin spice lattes in her hands.

“He mentioned to Jim”--Jim worked with Lisa--”in the gym that he filed his disclosure paperwork this morning?”

“Disclosure paperwork?” Darcy said.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a rubber-stamp thing, I’m sure, since you and he are in separate departments. You don’t have any disciplinary or promotional overlap, really. That’s why the relationship disclosure process was invented, for people who work closely together,” Lisa explained. A sleepy Jane opened her eyes really big and looked at Darcy.

“Oh,” Darcy said, still trying to process. He had filed paperwork to officially inform all of SHIELD that they were dating? Without even talking to her? It was crazy.

“I didn’t think you even got along,” Lisa said.

“Um, yeah?” Darcy said.

“Obviously,” Lisa said. “So, I have to ask...is he as fun as he looks like he would be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my Darcy/Brock love scenes are in some way influenced by this wildly hot (but NSFW) kiss gif from Kingdom. It's...it's a lot: https://elitosphere.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/kingdom-alvey-lisa-sex-kiss.gif


	5. ....Doesn't Always Stay Under The Christmas Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“Um, yeah?” Darcy repeated, when Lisa basically asked if Brock was good in bed. She didn’t know what to say.

“Lucky you!” Lisa said, getting off on her floor. Several people stepped on when she left, so Darcy and Jane made big eyes at each other until they got to the relative privacy of the lab.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, taking off her messenger bag. “Oh. My. God.”

“Um, yeah,” Jane teased, when they were alone.

“Shut up,” Darcy said.

“He filed paperwork to legitimize your relationship! I haven’t been this surprised since Thor told his dad about me,” Jane said, laughing. “What do those forms look like? Does it ask how long you’ve been together or anything like that? I want to see them.” She reached for the lab phone.

“Jane, no!” Darcy said. She grabbed for the phone, but Jane deftly avoided her.

“Human Resources,” Jane called into the automated directory.

“Jane!” Darcy said.

“Okay, here’s Miranda for you, Darce,” Jane said in a business-like tone. “She can get your paperwork.” She pressed the phone into Darcy’s hand.

“Um, hello?” Darcy said. She made a face at Jane and stuck her tongue out.

“How can I help you,” a woman on the other end said.

“I think some relationship disclosure paperwork was filed for me today and I wondered if I could get a copy? My name is Darcy Lewis,” Darcy said. She could hear typing through the phone.

“Oh, yes, Commander Rumlow dropped those off this morning. I can email you a copy right now?” Miranda said.

“Thank you, that would be great,” Darcy said.

“His forms only actually cover him. We’ll also need you to fill one out and sign it, too,” Miranda said. “So, I’ll send you an original and you can bring it to me to witness.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Witness?” she mouthed to Jane. Jane smirked. After Darcy hung up, she looked at Jane. “I need a witness for this? It’s like an absentee ballot,” she said. The email arrived in her inbox a few seconds later. There was a blank form attached, as well as a form. Darcy opened the one that Brock had initialled. She read the text aloud to Jane: “the relationship...is welcome and has been entered into with my full and informed consent.”

“--in the parking lot of the office holiday party,” Jane joked.

“I’m also free to terminate our relationship at any time without experiencing any workplace retaliation?” Darcy said.

“What about terminating a pregnancy, does it say you’re allowed to do that, if it doesn’t inconvenience SHIELD?” Jane asked archly.

“Jane!” Darcy said. “Don’t even say the word pregnancy to me, okay? You know all the women in my family get swollen feet and turn into Mommy & Me monsters when they make little spawn.”

“Yes, I know, I know, you’re forbidden from becoming pregnant because you’ll spend too much money on a _Rosemary’s Baby_ stroller and start pureeing your own baby food,” Jane said.

“You think I’m kidding, but my cousin Kelsey used to be all cool and laid back and now she monograms everything and screams if her baby touches the ground. The baby has never touched grass, only carpet and blankets. Everything he owns is designer. I don’t want to go that way,” Darcy said. She scanned the document. “This is mostly about protecting SHIELD from liability,” she told Jane.

“Duh,” Jane said. Darcy gazed at the form in wonder. Next to each numbered section, Brock had scrawled his initials.

  
_SHIELD Employee Social/Romantic Relationship Disclosure Form_

 _I have informed my supervisor/or human resources that I have entered into a personal/social relationship with another SHIELD employee. The name of this other employee is:_ **_Darcy Lewis._ **

_I understand and agree to the following:_

  1. __The workplace social/romantic relationship I am in with another employee of SHIELD is welcome and has been entered into with my full and informed consent._ ** _BR  
_**_
  2. _I am free to end this relationship at any time._ ** _BR  
_**
  3. _The person I am in a social relationship with is free to terminate our relationship at any time without experiencing any workplace retaliation from me._ ** _BR  
_**
  4. _If, in the the course of our job duties, I or the person I am in a social relationship with is exposed to contaminants (e.g., sex pollen, brainwashing, other toxins), I absolve SHIELD of any legal responsibility relating to our social relationship. I certify that I cannot sue SHIELD for alienation of affections._ ** _BR  
_**
  5. _I agree that will not participate in any discussions or decisions related to the terms of the other employee’s employment, including those related to assignments, evaluations, compensation, scheduling, promotion or demotion, undercover work, or classified missions._ ** _BR  
_**
  6. _I will not engage in any inappropriate public displays of affection or any inappropriate conduct in the workplace or at work-related functions with the other employee. Note: Exposure to contaminants does not fall under section six._ ** _BR  
_**
  7. _I will not engage in conduct that could reasonably be regarded by other employees as professional favoritism towards the other employee with whom I am in a relationship._ ** _BR  
_**
  8. _I agree to behave professionally towards the other employee with whom I am in a relationship at all times while at work or at work related activities, even if the social relationship ends._ ** _BR  
_**
  9. _I agree that participation in this social/romantic relationship has not been made a condition or term of employment._ ** _BR  
_**
  10. _I will inform the organization immediately if the social relationship ends or if the conduct of the other employee is no longer welcome by me._ ** _BR  
_**
  11. _I understand that I may consult with an attorney before signing this agreement._ ** _BR  
_**



“Well,” Jane said, “you’re already in violation of section eight, like, totally.”

“Multiple times,” Darcy admitted. “What am I supposed to do about this?” she asked Jane. Jane shrugged.

“Do you actually like him?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “I thought he got on my nerves, the sex is great, the boxing is miserable, but he doesn’t really talk to me like a normal guy, you know? I had no idea he even thought we were together, like, _together_ together.”

“That”--Jane pointed at the screen with the forms--”seems like a pretty clear sign that he thinks you’re together.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She did something she hadn’t really done before. She called Brock on his SHIELD line.

“Hello?” he said.

“It’s Darcy,” she said.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “You feel like having lunch with me? Can you leave Jane unsupervised for an hour or so?”

“Sure,” Darcy said.

***

When she got downstairs to his SUV, he was waiting for her with the vehicle running. He popped open the passenger door and she climbed in. “Hey,” Darcy said. “Where are we going?” She was worried that he might make her go to some terrible clean health food place and she’d be stuck eating cold quinoa or something. She’d been tricked by quinoa before.

“You feel like Greek?” he said.

“Yes,” she said happily. He took her to a little non-fancy Greek place with plastic tables. It was not bad at all. This place had French fries and salad. She got some of both. “So,” she said, as they were eating, “you filed paperwork? Relationship disclosure forms?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I had to, it’s a rule. They’re required.”

“I thought you could do anything if you didn’t get caught?” she asked, trying to sound playful.

“With SHIELD in such a weird place legally, I wanted to keep my paperwork in order,” he said, expressionless.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “So, you don’t really want to do them?”

“No, not really,” he said. “I mean, they don’t mean anything, they’re just cover your ass forms, aren’t they? And the last thing I need is some Congressman using me not doing a screwing-your-coworker form as a reason to give Fury shit about budgets three years from now.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, inwardly confused. She sliced a bit of her grilled chicken. It meant nothing. She shouldn’t stress about it, then? But it nagged at her through lunch. Why was she bothered?

“What?” he said, finally. “You’re too quiet.”

“Do you have to use the phrase ‘screwing your coworker?’” she asked, doing air quotes. She’d lowered her voice. He laughed.

“You want me to say nailing you instead?” he said, leaning in and grinning. He eyed her. “Do we have time for that?” he said, checking his watch.

“That’s a violation of section eight,” Darcy said.

“Not at home. My place is two blocks from here,” he said, gathering his empty tray and hers. “You just might be a little late getting back to the lab, that’s all,” he told her. She was just curious enough about his place to say yes, despite her weird, nagging irritation with him.

His apartment was a typical single guy’s place: huge TV, comfortably battered-looking leather couches, running shoes by the door, except that he had some unusual carved wood stuff in the living room. “Got that in Thailand,” he said, noticing her looking. Once they’d stepped inside and she’d dropped her messenger bag on the kitchen island, he took his shirt off and started caressing her body. “Let me see your gorgeous tits, princess,” he said, reaching for her bra hook after he’d pulled her shirt off. He squeezed her bare breasts with both hands, giving her a sly grin.

“What? Are you just going to stare at my boobs?” Darcy said.

“No,” he said. He licked his lips and pulled her onto the sofa with him, into his lap. He sucked at one nipple, raking it lightly with his teeth, and pressed his palms into the sides of her ass. When he switched to her other nipple, he rocked her gently against him.

“Oh God,” Darcy said. The friction from his tactical pants felt incredible against her soft leggings.

“Feel good?” he said, letting her go and grinning at her.

“Yeah,” she admitted. She wasn’t used to this anymore. While many of her boyfriends had been boob guys and content to lie around playing with hers on weekends, Ian really hadn’t been into them. At the time, she’d considered it a mark of Ian’s maturity and been relieved not to have to sit around while he made toy car noises into her cleavage, but she had missed that lustful, fascinated look that Brock was giving her now, she realized. Abruptly, he scooped her up by the waist and threw her over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Darcy said, as his shoulder dug into her belly and she tried to stay balanced.

“Taking you to bed,” he said, slapping her ass. “You’re a little top heavy,” he said, smirking.

“I thought you liked that about me,” she said, as they moved down the hallway.

“It was a positive observation,” he said slyly. “Not bad from this angle either.” He was looking at her ass. He deposited her on the bed with a laugh.

She’d expected him to have one of those macho all-black bedrooms, but she was surprised when she looked up from the bed and realized he had an intricately carved wooden headboard. “That’s beautiful,” she said. “Thailand again?”

“Yes, princess,” he said. “Shoes off or on?” She looked at her boot-clad feet.

“What if I kick you?” she said.

“I can take the punishment,” he said, pulling down her leggings to her ankles so he could part her knees. “Can you?” he asked, undoing his pants. Darcy rolled her eyes, but her gaze lingered on his erection as he put on a condom.

“Show me what you’ve got then,” she retorted. She was feeling a little edgy. She didn’t know if he picked up on her mood or was just in a hurry, but he must have decided today was a _screw his coworker_ day. He thrust in and out of her roughly, until she was sweaty and gasping from his level of force. “Uhhhhhh,” Darcy groaned, gripping his hair. He was practically jolting her body up and down.

“Pull,” he said. She yanked his hair after his next thrust.

“Good girl,” he hissed and rammed her more aggressively. “Harder, in time with me,” he said.

“Fuck,” she muttered, pulling his hair again as he moved. He torqued his hips an extra fraction and she shuddered in response.

“You close?” he said. His gaze was intense. There were beads of sweat along his hairline and neck.

“Yeah,” she said. “Oh God, oh God.”

“That’s me, princess,” he said archly. He kept going until she couldn’t really talk and was reduced to a series of cries and whimpers. With every snap of his hips, he she felt intermingled pleasure and pain.

“Oh, uhhh, oh,” Darcy cried. Even her bones felt rattled. It reminded her of a friend’s joke about crazy X-Games athletes probably “fucking like they had a feeling once and didn’t like it much.” He slowed down, then grinned when she looked up at him in concern.

“How ‘bout now, princess? Ready? You wanna come for me?” he said. She nodded, feeling desperate for release.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said.

“Say please,” he teased.

“P--p-please,” she stuttered in his ear. He grinned, giving her several forceful pushes that drove her to orgasm. She spasmed and dug her nails into his biceps. “Uhh-ohhhh,” she said, shaking and trying not to weep. Her body felt boneless. Her legs were trembling around his hips. He moved his hips roughly again--again--again. For a second her mind went absolutely blank, like he’d just pushed her her past conscious thought into sensation and all she could feel was him, on top of her, inside her, looking at her. It was almost unbearable in its intensity. She shut her eyes. She was squirming, half-agony, half-pleasure, when she jerked involuntarily and he came in response, groaning.

“Fuck, fuck, you little--uuhhhhh,” he said, turning incoherent. They slowed their movements, both sweaty and exhausted. She felt him slump. He’d half-collapsed on top of her. When Darcy opened her eyes, he was watching her, his expression unfathomable. There was a long moment of eye contact. “We gotta go back to work,” he said finally. He tried to detach himself. She made an unhappy sound and buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him with her last bit of strength.

“No, can’t,” she whispered, licking her lips. “Not ready.” He chuckled and kissed her slowly, sucking on her mouth and sliding his tongue between her teeth. They kissed for a few moments, then he pulled away.

“Okay, baby,” he said. “You want me to clean you up?” She shook her head.

“Mm, no, stay,” she begged. She wanted to keep kissing him.

“I’ve got a STRIKE meeting in an hour and you have to put your pants on,” he said. Over her protests, he pried himself away from her and then left for the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp washcloth. He stroked between her legs gently and she sighed. “Was I too rough?” he asked teasingly. “I forget how delicate you are.” Darcy murmured in response. Dragging the washcloth across her sex, he grinned. “Both your lips are pretty, princess. So pink and full.”

“Ughhhhh,” Darcy said. “Ruining the moment.”

“You know you love it, you can’t get enough of me,” he said, going back to the bathroom and then returning and putting on his own clothes. “C’mere, we gotta go,” he said, helping her sit up and getting her into her clothes. When she was dressed again, he kissed her and smoothed down the wild parts of her hair.

***

She had returned to normal-ish brain activity by the time he dropped her off at the office. People were walking by. She was twenty minutes over her lunch break. “C’mere,” he said. He kissed her, both hands clasped over her face, and grinned. “I had fun. Now get out of my car,” he said, smiling.

“Bite me,” she said, that feeling of edginess returning now that she’d shaken off the post-sex fog.

“I’ll call you, princess,” he said.

“You never call me,” Darcy told him. She made sure to shut the door of the SUV with a little more emphasis than usual. When she looked back at him, he was grinning. He rolled the window down.

“You could call me,” he said. 

"You first," she said, turning away.

She marched into work, trying to ignore the throbbing tenderness between her legs, but feeling like the whole world could see it and knew, just knew, that he'd been fucking her senseless. And yet, he _doesn't really care_ , Darcy thought. Her brain was a muddle. “What’s wrong?” Jane said, when she came back into the lab.

“I’m--I’m weirdly upset. I don’t even know why? Brock basically told me that he did the forms because they’re required, not because he wanted to do them,” Darcy said. “They don’t mean anything.”

“Did you have a fight? Is that why you were late?” Jane asked.

“Sorry. No, we went back to his place and had sex,” Darcy said.

“Oh, shit,” Jane said, watching Darcy with an anxious expression. Darcy sat down at her desk, looked at the open PDFs on her screen, and closed them.

“Give me some work to do. Drop a file if you have to and I’ll resort it or something. If I sit here, I’ll be tempted to angry text,” Darcy said.

“Are you going to do the forms?” Jane asked.

“Nope,” Darcy said. “Not today.” She looked at her emails. “Not today, Satan,” she muttered.

“Did you just whisper ‘not today, Satan,’ because you’re mad at Brock Rumlow right after you had sex with him?” Jane asked.

“Yes, yes, I did,” Darcy said. Jane gave her a few things to do. When she went to refill their coffees to fight the post-lunch slump at three o’clock, there were several people in the breakroom.

“Hi, Darce,” Sharon said brightly.

“Hey,” Cameron said.

“Greetings, fellow travelers,” Darcy said back. “I have come seeking coffee from far away. Can either of you pilgrims point me in the direction of the blessed machine?” Cameron laughed and scooted out of the way. She got some of the extra-strong French Roast that she kept in the lab and made a pot. She and Jane used 32 ounce travel mugs. They were hardcore coffee bitches. She was watching the coffee brew and laughing at one Sharon’s jokes about the Friday meetings, when Cameron looked at her funny.

“Is it really true?” he asked, looking curious.

“What?” Darcy said.

“You’re dating Rumlow?” he said.

“I have to confess: I want to know, too,” Sharon said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“It’s all over the office,” Cameron said. “I guess because people don’t see you together? You’re so you and he’s so him, you know?” Darcy didn’t really know, but she nodded politely. “And people were surprised about the paperwork,” Cameron continued.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Darcy said.

“SHIELD is so gossipy, sorry,” Sharon said, giving Darcy a sympathetic look.

“But he never did the paperwork before? Not when you were dating, right? Before the Uprising?” Cameron said to Sharon. Darcy stared between them.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Not when he’s dated anybody else, either?” he said.

“Sorry,” Sharon said to Darcy. “It was years and years ago, very briefly.” She was glaring at Cameron with an expression that screamed _shut up, you idiot._

“Oh,” Darcy said, “I didn’t know.”

“It was no big deal, everyone’s probably forgotten,” Sharon said, seemingly trying to put on a brave face. Darcy actually laughed then.

“It’s okay, Sharon, really,” she said.

“What?” Cameron said.

“Cam, I love you like a brother”--Peggy Carter and Stan Klein had become friends after Steve’s plane crash and Sharon and Cameron had met as children and considered themselves de facto cousins--”but sometimes you are so not getting context clues,” Sharon said. “It’s rude to bring that up in front of his new girlfriend.”

“Sorry,” Cameron said.

“I’m not sure it’s really that serious, guys,” Darcy said.

When Darcy got back to the lab, she plonked down Jane’s giant travel mug. “You know how you’re always wanting me to go to spin class with you? Could we do that tonight?” Darcy asked. Jane had lots of excess energy and swore exercise helped her brain function, so she was always trying to rope Darcy in. For her part, Darcy pushed Jane towards non-violent exercise forms.

“What’s wrong?” Jane said, immediately alarmed.

“Did you know Brock and Sharon dated?” Darcy said.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Jane said.

“It’s not like I’m mad, I just--” Darcy began, then waved her arms. “It’s just a general feeling of _what now?_ Does that even make sense?”

“This is like when I found out about Sif,” Jane said. “It’s not like it even impacted my relationship with Thor, but it made me feel like he might be comparing me to her, somehow?” She checked her phone. “Okay, they have a Madonna themed class tonight or a Jingle Bells themed one?”

“Madonna,” Darcy said definitively. “Can I borrow some of your gym clothes?” Jane kept a bag in the lab.

“Of course,” Jane said. Darcy didn’t own gym clothes, just sleepwear that she pretended was regular clothes and wore to work.

Natasha Romanoff met them at the cycling studio. “I didn’t know you went to spin class,” she said, sounding genuinely surprised to see Darcy.

“Oooh, you surprised Nat,” Jane said. “Even Tony can’t do that.”

“That’s because he is utterly predictable,” Nat said.

“She’s upset about Rumlow,” Jane supplied, as they climbed onto adjoining spin bikes.

“If you’ve slept with my fake boyfriend, please don’t tell me,” Darcy told Natasha.

“Fake boyfriend?” Nat said, frowning.

“She thinks they’re more friends-with-benefits,” Jane said. “He’s got her all messed up.”

“Not even friends, more like fuck acquaintances,” Darcy said under her breath. Natasha raised an eyebrow fractionally at her tone.

“I’d heard he declared you in his file,” the Russian said.

“According to him, that’s just cover your ass paperwork,” Darcy said. “And it means nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha said. “If you are unhappy, why not leave him?”

“The sex is too good,” Darcy muttered.

“Really? Sharon left me with the impression that he was quite boring and cautious, very distant,” Natasha said.

“What?” Jane said, laughing. She leaned over to Natasha and whispered, “he’s been dragging her off for sex at lunch, in parking lots--”

“And under my Christmas tree,” Darcy said glumly. Natasha actually laughed.

“You would make a very naughty Russian girl,” she said.

“For reasons of Russian orthodoxy or Communism?” Darcy joked. She knew from her Russian history seminar at Culver that both the tsars and the early Communists had disapproved of Christmas trees at various points. They were too German for WWI-era Russia, too religious for the secular Communists of the 1920s and 1930s.

“Both, probably,” Natasha said.

"How many people at SHIELD has he dated?" Darcy asked, torn between curiosity and dread. 

"You really want to know?" Natasha said. Darcy nodded seriously. Natasha reeled off a list of names: "Sharon, Kristen Hernandez from Logistics, Toni Rossi in R&D, and as far as agents go, there was Stephanie Abrams, Lauren Williams, Lauren Thompson, Lauren Jones--it was a running joke he only dated Laurens for a while--Madison Reeves, Noor al-Mahdi, Sophie Yeoh, Felicia Rodriguez, Yasmine Brown, Lisa--"

"Oh dear God, he's as bad as Fandral," Jane interjected.

"Also, I think Melinda May--" Natasha began.

“All right!” the spin instructor said, “Let’s start it up with some stretching and _Ray of Light_ , people!” The speakers thudded to life at top volume, everyone waved their arms in the air, and Darcy was too distracted to think about Brock for the next fifty minutes. By the end of the class, Darcy had decided she needed either a membership or her own at-home bike. This was exercise she didn’t hate: she was one-hundred percent certain she could blast music and pedal out her anxiety to “Unapologetic Bitch” every single day. She thought the _Rebel Heart_ album was seriously underrated.

“What are we doing now?” Jane said, when the three of them finished class, showered, and changed. “Drinks? Dinner?”

“Drinks?” Darcy said. “I could use one.”

“I can’t believe you exercised twice in one week,” Jane said.

“Twice?” Natasha said.

“Rumlow took me to his boxing gym,” Darcy said.

“Interesting,” Natasha said.

“I want one of those bikes. I could do that everyday. How expensive is Peloton? It’s crazy expensive, right? Those Christmas ads looked expensive,” Darcy asked.

“Okay, now I’m really worried,” Jane said seriously.

“We will get some vodka in her and she’ll return to normal,” Natasha said.

“Just don’t do cognitive recalibration, okay?” Darcy said. Clint had told her about that.

“A chocolate martini?” Natasha suggested.

“You don’t even think those are real drinks,” Darcy said.

“They are not, but you are a notorious lightweight,” Natasha told her. Jane laughed.

“Thanks so much,” Darcy said.

“It is one of your most endearing qualities,” Natasha said. They went to one of Natasha’s favorite Russian bars. Darcy was sipping a chocolate-peppermint martini when her phone rang. She looked down at the familiar number in surprise, then answered.

“Hello?” she said.

“Darce, I’m in DC and I wanted to say hello,” Ian Boothby said on the other end. “Are you busy right now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing sex scenes in every chapter is *challenging,* y'all. I keep trying to balance out the romantic and smutty without repeating positions/sounds language/dialogue too much. 
> 
> I keep thinking Ian's last name is Braithwaite (I think I screwed that up in another story?) but I've decided that Brock calls him by the wrong name purposefully in chapter one of this and will probably continue to do so. Hopefully, to his face at some point.
> 
> "Alienation of Affections" laws don't exist in every US state, but they are basically laws that allow a spouse to sue their cheating spouse's lover for "alienation," so I assume SHIELD would be concerned about being the target of similar lawsuits related to experiments and field activity: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alienation_of_affections


	6. Bartender, Bring Me Five More Peppermint Martinis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! But I love all your comments! And kudos!

“I’m having a girls’ night,” Darcy explained to him on the phone, sipping her drink. “How long are you in town?”

“A few days,” Ian said, “could we have dinner this week? Maybe Wednesday?”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “But you could come to the bar now. It’s called Yakov’s. We’re on U Street.” Jane was looking at her. When Darcy hung up with Ian--slipping and saying, “Bye, love you!” out of habit--Jane arched an eyebrow.

“What, pray tell, are you doing? Having dinner with Ian? Inviting him here tonight” Jane said.

“Why not? We’re adults,” Darcy said.

“Every single time she says that, they get back together for six months and my life gets thrown into chaos and drama, “ Jane told Natasha. "They're not, like, intensely passionate or anything--"

"No, never," Darcy said. "He's a raisin cookie masquerading as chocolate chip, honestly.”

"What?" Natasha said.

"We have fun, I think everything's good and he's my guy bestie, my male Jane, and then he takes a job in, like, the North Pole without telling me," Darcy explained.

"Stop going back to the raisin cookie and expecting it to be chocolate chip!" Jane said. "He always leaves."

“She moped over Thor for two years and did I complain?” Darcy pointed out.

“Yes. Yes, you complained on the daily,” Jane sassed back.

“I did!” Darcy said cheerfully; she felt slightly buzzed. She flagged down the bartender. “Sir, another chocolate peppermint martini!” She was near the end of her first.

“Oh, no,” Natasha said dryly, “not a second one.”

“Who’s carrying her home, me or you?” Jane joked. Realizing that Darcy was distractedly swaying to the bar’s music, Natasha looked canny. She pulled out her phone. “What are you doing?” Jane asked.

“Giving things a little push,” Natasha said. She was texting Brock to say Darcy needed a ride home.

“I love this music!” Darcy said. “What is it?”

“Klezmer,” the bartender told her, giving her the second drink and smiling. “The owners are Russian and Jewish.”

“Are you meddling?” Jane said to Natasha.

“In Russia, we call this enhancing our sphere of influence by acting as a catalyst for change,” Natasha said.

“This is gonna go badly,” Jane whispered. Darcy looked up from where she was sucking on her thin straw. Somehow, a third of the drink was already gone.

“Are you invading Ukraine again?” Darcy said. She’d been half-paying attention.

“No,” Natasha said.

“Good,” Darcy said. “Invading countries never goes well. Especially Russia. Never invade Russia! Eddie Izzard has a great skit about this. Napoleon tried, Hitler tried, it’s just too cold. Always ends badly. I love Eddie Izzard. I would date him. Have you ever played Risk? I’ve never played Risk. You know what?”

“She’s drunk when she starts talking about Eddie Izzard,” Jane said.

“What?” Natasha said.

“I know why I’m mad at Brock! I just realized it!” Darcy said. She took a sip of her second drink.

“Why?” Jane said. “Stop drinking and tell us.” Darcy pushed her straw away and leaned towards the other two.

“I think I want him to be my real boyfriend. Isn’t that crazy? My real boyfriend. I want him to go with me to Christmas parties and stuff. For the party, not just the car sex,” Darcy whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Natasha said.

“It feels like something you should whisper, you know?” Darcy said. “He’ll _hate_ it. He’s probably never been a real boyfriend. Ever. What should I do?”

“Tell him,” Natasha said.

“Phhft,” Darcy said, blowing bubbles in her martini. “That will never work.”

Ian arrived a few minutes later. He enveloped Darcy in a big hug. “Hullo, sweetie,” he said. “I’ve missed you.” He smiled down at her. Ian was tall. He kissed her on the cheek.

“You have?” Darcy said. This was uncommonly affectionate for Ian.

“Absolutely. You look wonderful. Hi, Jane,” he said.

“Hi, Ian. You look, uh, snazzy?” Jane said. He did. Ian was wearing a low sheen grey suit and an elegant tie. For as long as they’d known him, Ian had been a hiking boots guy. He’d always dressed like someone in a commercial for recreational activities in Colorado. Now he had on cufflinks. Jane had never seen him in cufflinks or a tie. Everything about him looked more expensive.

“Thanks. Can I get a vodka? Do you have Pyat Ozer?” he asked the bartender. “And another round for these ladies?”

“That is a nice vodka,” Natasha said. “Natasha Romanoff,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Delighted to meet you. It’s a good sipping vodka, isn’t it?” he said. She nodded.

“Since when do you drink vodka straight and wear th--the suits?” Darcy said, befuddled and gawking openly. She blinked as if she doubted her own eyes. “And why are you wearing cufflinks?” Darcy said, as the bartender slid her a third chocolate peppermint martini.

“Well,” he said, “it’s difficult to explain, love.” He sighed. “You know how we were looking for private grants to fund our astrophysics research on Dunning’s team?” Before their break up, Ian had gone to Greenland with a British astrophysicist named Bertrand Dunning. Darcy had not wanted to spend four months choosing between death by hypothermia or boredom and had followed Jane to DC. They’d had a huge fight and broken up over the phone.

“Yes?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, we got a grant from the Natchios corporation,” he said, sighing slightly and sipping his vodka.

“Oh, yeah, Elektra Natchios? We met her at a Tony Stark party once, remember? The four of us?” Darcy said. “Oh my God, she’s nuts--”

“Yes,” Ian said, swallowing. “She remembered me, apparently.”

“You met again because of the grant?” Jane said.

“She came to Greenland. We--we--uh, dated for a while,” he said. “It was very tumultuous.”

“Tumultuous?” Natasha said, raising an eyebrow. A speechless Darcy was staring.

“Well, I don’t think she really meant to kill me, but extracting myself from the relationship has been, uh, rather difficult--” he began.

Brock Rumlow was in a mall. He fucking hated malls. He and Jack had fake-chased Cap through a mall once. He picked up a pair of teal lace panties and frowned. Three girls who looked all of fourteen were going through the underwear bin across him. Too young to be hanging around here unsupervised, he thought, then grinned internally at how old he sounded. He was old. He wished there was a lingerie store for actual adults. Somewhere nice. Everything here was Pepto pink and the music was louder than a damn nightclub. He’d been in this Victoria’s Secret two minutes and he already had a headache. This was why he bought his relatives fucking giftcards. “Excuse me?” he said to a passing salesclerk. He tried to look helpless. “I’m trying to find something for my girlfriend.”

“Do you need help?” she said sympathetically.

“Absolutely,” he told her. Twenty minutes and a godawful total on his Visa later, he got a text. He’d been hoping it would be Darcy. But it wasn’t Darcy. It was Natasha.

“I can’t believe you had an affair with Elektra! She’s insane. Even Tony says he doesn’t have the nerve! Ian, what has gotten into you?” Darcy said. He chuckled.

“I know, I know,” he said. He’d been telling her Elektra stories. The heiress seemed like a total nutcase to Darcy. She’d gotten crazy vibes from Elektra at their one meeting and that had been all of two minutes at a crowded party. Ian looked abashed.

“Ian!” she repeated.

“I was upset when things ended between us, Darce. I did crazy things. Stupid things. That’s why I’m here, I wanted to ask you--” Ian began. Behind him, someone cleared their throat. Ian turned.

“Hello,” Brock Rumlow said, standing behind the British scientist. “Foster, Romanoff,” he said, nodding at the other women. They’d moved to a table, having run into a friend of Natasha’s. Jane waved back.

“B-Brock?” Darcy said, stuttering slightly. “How did you find us?” 

“Natasha texted me, thought I could take you home, princess,” he said. “Said you were on your second chocolate martini.”

“Oh, good,” Darcy said. He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. Darcy found herself automatically leaning into his kiss and touching his hair. She wanted Brock, really wanted him. He had her all messed up. They kissed for a long moment. She ran her hands through his hair and over his shoulders. When she pulled back, she could feel that she was all flushed and got a little embarrassed. Remember that he doesn’t feel the same way, she scolded herself internally. Don’t grind up on him in this bar.

“Sorry, Braithwaite,” Brock said. “You were saying?” Darcy felt the weight of his arm on her shoulder and tucked her head against him. Love me, please love me, Darcy thought, the sentiment bubbling up unexpectedly. Oh, shit. I’m getting maudlin. I’m maudlin cry drunk, she realized.

“It’s Boothby. Ian Boothby. Have we met before?” Ian said, his open expression turning unhappy.

“London. The Elf business. But I was chasing the Jotunheim Beast with my STRIKE team and I think you were, uh, doing your bit for science, you know,” Brock said.

“He was my intern!” Darcy said, trying to relax and be funny.

“Important intern work,” Brock repeated. “I’ll just have a water,” he told the bartender, “driving my girl and her friends home.”

“Why don’t you sit?” Ian said, gesturing to the barstool on his other side.

“Oh, I like where I am,” Brock said, keeping his hands on Darcy. She leaned into him. “Wouldn’t want to sit that far from you if I didn’t have to,” he said, looking at her.

“Yeah?” Darcy said. She could lose herself in his eyes. They were a deep brown with flecks of green. When he’d called her his girl, her heart had done a funny thing. It did it again when he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m supposed to be mad at you!” she said, staring at him.

“Really? Why?” he said.

“Shut up, you know,” Darcy said.

“Rumlow is standing on his toes,” Jane whispered to Natasha. They’d moved to a table, ostensibly to talk to a friend of Natasha’s, but really to gossip about the love triangle in front of them.

“Who is this again?” Natasha’s friend Sophie asked.

“She used to date the blond guy, now she’s hooking up with the dark-haired guy, who appears to be having a bout of jealousy,” Jane explained. “I can’t believe Ian dated Elektra Natchios. Ian!”

“It is bizarre,” Natasha agreed.

“Didn’t she try to run over someone on a ski slope? I read about it in _Vanity Fair_ ,” Sophie said. Jane nodded.

“Oooh, look at the body language!” Jane said, slapping Nat’s shoulder. “Brock is angry.”

“It’s tense,” Sophie said.

“Yes, they are either going to beat each other up or go urinate on the bushes in front of Darcy’s apartment,” Nat said dryly. “But he is staking a strong claim. He was not stopped touching Darcy since he got here and she is obviously happy about it.” A still-standing Brock had his arm around Darcy. She was leaning against him and was talking animatedly, gesturing with her hands. Brock had kissed the side her face at least twice as she talked, earning a glare from Ian. Brock had squared his shoulders and kissed Darcy another time.

“--now I’m the head manager in an important lab in Greenland,” Ian said. “That was my big break. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked sweetly at Darcy.

“Oh, yeah?” Brock said.

“You must be retired from your old position, given the demands of that kind of work,” Ian said. “You can’t chase Frost Beasts much past thirty-five.” He laughed.

“No, I still run STRIKE Alpha. Still jumping out of planes with Cap,” Brock said. “Oh, that’s Captain America. Does he know that?” he asked Darcy. She nodded. “We all call him Cap,” Brock told Ian.

“That must be a real privilege," Ian said.

“We do a lot of privileged work at SHIELD,” Brock said. “It’s a real responsibility, in civic terms.” He smiled. “I feel lucky. Very lucky. And extraordinarily lucky to have met you, baby,” he said to Darcy, kissing the side of her face.

“So, things are serious between you?” Ian said.

“Oh, yeah, very serious,” Brock interjected.

“Since when?” Darcy said archly.

“Since always,” he said, kissing the side of her face.

“I thought you said that disclosure form meant nothing today,” Darcy said. “I was really upset with you before my third martini.” She wagged her finger at him. Her other arm was around his waist. He grinned and playfully nipped at her finger.

“You were? Baby, that’s not what I meant. Not at all,” he said, tracing his finger along the neckline of her sweater. Darcy could see the pink flush pooling under her skin and knew she was all hot and bothered. “I meant they weren’t legally binding, not really. I could still sue SHIELD if they exposed you to sex pollen.”

“Would a lawyer do that?” Darcy said.

“Maybe. But I’d probably just put a bullet in any man who touched you instead.” He looked at Ian. “I’m a little overprotective,” he said. 

“Ian’s involved with Elektra Natchios now,” Darcy told Brock, her brain stuttering at his declaration. “That heiress? The bonkers one?” Brock raised an eyebrow.

“That so? SHIELD keeps an eye on her. I hear very interesting things,” Brock said. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as her type, but then again, she was involved with that blind lawyer in New York, too. She must like nice guys.”

“Was. Was involved. We’ve ended things at present,” Ian corrected.

“Oh, that’s too bad. The suit’s nice,” Brock said neutrally. “She has good taste in suits, for a woman who once stabbed someone with her heel at, uh, Christ, I forget where it was? In Paris? A restaurant?”

“Dior boutique in Paris,” Ian said. “We were there on a trip.”

“Wow,” Darcy said. “Were they expensive shoes?” Brock chuckled, his breath ghosting against her ear.

“She stabbed someone with a fork at the restaurant in Paris,” Ian said quietly. Brock smirked.

“You’re a brave man, Braithwaite. I like a nice evening at home with this one under the Christmas tree,” he said to Darcy, giving her a smoldering look.

“Boothby,” Ian said.

“I do, too,” Darcy told Brock, grinning and touching his hair. “Like an evening under the Christmas tree.”

“Why don’t I get you home then?” he said. He turned to the table where Natasha and Jane were still sitting. “Ladies, are you ready to go? Braithwaite, it was great to see you again,” he said casually.

“Yeah, Ian,” Darcy said, “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Boothby,” Ian corrected.

“Oh, yeah,” Brock said, helping Darcy down. “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Bye, Ian,” Darcy said. “He’s right, it’s a good suit.”

“Suits you,” Brock cracked, caressing her waist. Darcy was trying not to melt. One more martini and she’d have been having sex with him on a table.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” she announced, once they’d dropped off Jane. Natasha had disappeared of her own accord. She tended to do that.

“Oh, yeah?” he said.

“You hurt my feelings today, saying that the disclosure forms meant nothing,” she said.

“So, you decided to flirt with your ex?” he said coolly.

“I wasn’t flirting with him. I’m done with him,” Darcy said, crossing her arms.

“Have you told him that?” Brock said pointedly.

“I did--months ago,” she said. “Hey, this isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“Nope,” he said cryptically. He drove her to his place in silence. “So,” he said, parking the car. “Did you want to sleep here tonight or no?”

“Suuuure,” she said, trying to match his coolness. It was challenging when she was so buzzed. They went inside quietly.

“I’ll get you pajamas,” he said, leading her back to his bedroom. It looked different at night. Darcy looked around. He was so tidy. That was weird, right? Fun people were messy, tidy people weren’t usually fun.

“What is your headboard made of?” she said, flopping back on the bed.

“Thai wall panels,” he said.

“You like it there?” she said.

“Got my arm tattoos there. I like Muay Thai,” he said.

“Is that like pad thai?” she asked.

“No, it’s martial arts,” he said, laughing.

“Of course,” she muttered.

“Here,” he said. She was surprised to discover that he really meant sleep. He’d brought her a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt to sleep in, setting them next to her on the bed. Neatly folded. She looked at it. “Something wrong?” he said.

“No sex?” she said.

“You’re drunk,” he said.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me like that or touched me if you didn’t want to tonight,” she said archly. “That’s mean.”

“Mean?” he said. She sat up and pulled at the hem of his shirt.

“Leading a girl on, I’ll have to put that in my paperwork,” she said. “File a report with HR.” She started taking his shirt off. He tilted his head and looked at her curiously.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

“You,” she told him, grinning. “I always did like Italian though. Really like.” She eyed him.

“Don’t treat me like a piece of meat, woman,” he said.

“I thought you liked that, too.”

Darcy woke up in Brock’s bed. “Mmm,” she muttered, wiggling automatically to be closer to him. Her back was against his chest. He was warm like a heat lamp. She had a vague memory of unbuttoning his pants and asking him to fuck her last night. Pleading, really. Kissing and nibbling at him. Messy French kisses in the dark. He’d told her she tasted like chocolate and peppermint schnapps in a low voice. She’d begged some more. He’d demurred at first, but then finally relented and laughingly pulled her feet over his shoulders. After that, her memories were more about sensation: the feel of him inside her and his fingers on her, the sound of their bodies moving together, the salty scent of his sweat mingling with hers, and her own spicy, musky taste on his thumb when he’d touched her face.

“Hey,” he said in her ear. “You awake?”

“A little,” Darcy said. “Enough to be embarrassed. I begged you for sex.” She scrunched her face and put her hand over her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Usually, I’d say no on grounds of inebriation, but you were so cute. Especially when you took your bra off and yelled _tadaaaa_ ,” he said, chuckling.

“Oh God, I’d been hoping you didn’t remember that,” Darcy said. Sometimes, she play-stripped when drunk. Only at home, not in public. She had standards.

“Oh no, how could I forget? It was a big reveal,” he said, cupping one of her breasts. “Really big reveal.” Darcy sighed. “What?” he said. “You ready to ride me again?”

“I said that, didn’t I?” she said, cringing. “I’m so not a cool person sometimes.”

“I liked it fine,” he said, dryly. She heard him turn, then retrieve a condom, so she half-shifted. “No, stay where you are, hide your shame,” he joked. He rolled her over onto her belly and then asked if she wanted a pillow underneath her in a surprisingly gentle voice.

“No,” she said.

“You’re quiet today. You had a lot to say last night,” he said, as he climbed behind her. His hands were warm as he adjusted her to give himself access. “Do you remember the last thing you said to me?”

“Oh, God, it was something embarrassing, wasn’t it?” she said.

“I liked it,” he said. “You really don’t remember? I didn’t know chocolate martinis could do that to a person.”

“No---oh,” Darcy said, when he pushed inside her. “Oh.”

“You were wild last night,” he said. His movements today were slow and gentle. “But I just can’t get over what you said to me, princess.” He put his fingers on her clit. “I want to hear it again.”

“I can’t remember,” she said, her breath catching.

“No?” he asked.

“Mmmm-ummm,” she moaned.

“Hmmm,” he said. He tsk-tsk’d. “If I go harder, do you think you’d remember?” he asked, moving his hands to grip her tightly.

“Yes, yes,” she repeated. She wanted him to--even with a slight ache, she always wanted more of him. She was developing a really bad habit where he was concerned. Was it possible to be addicted to a person sexually? Was this why people in dysfunctional, crazy relationships would break up and then reunite constantly? “Uhhh,” Darcy moaned, as he moved more roughly. She rested her weight on her elbows to brace herself and pushed back against him. “Uhhhh, oh God, oh God,” she said, collapsing her arms down when she started to shake.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Uhh-huh,” she said, still trembling. “I love you.” His thrusts slowed; there was a long silence. _Oh no oh no oh no,_ Darcy thought.

“Say that again, princess?” he said.

“Nuh-uh,” Darcy said, shaking her head. She’d just totally humiliated herself. He sat back on his heels, pulling her with him gently so they didn’t totally separate, then wrapped his arms around her torso. She was pinned against him.

“C’mon,” he whispered in her ear. Playfully, he slid his tongue into the shell of her ear and she squirmed reflexively.

“Ohhhhhh,” Darcy said, as he sucked her earlobe. He knew she loved it. Her ears were sensitive.

“What’d you say, huh?” Brock said.

“Noooooo, don’t make me,” she whispered. He breathed against her ear. So warm, she thought.

“I’m going to take you apart,” he said intensely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad I googled photos of Jonathan Howard, Thor: TDW's Ian, for inspo before writing this chapter! This is what it was like:
> 
> Me: [types, stares} "Whaaaaaaaa? Is that ELEKTRA?!" [Googles more] "Holy --!" Yup. Jonathan Howard is Daredevil's Elodie Yung's real-life partner. They have a baby. So, of course, Ian and Elektra had to have an in-story romance. If you haven't seen Daredevil, Elodie Yung is such a fantastic actress. Her Elektra literally scares me. The Marvel Cinematic Universe has an actual couple. How cool is that? 
> 
> http://www.zimbio.com/photos/Jonathan+Howard/Thor+Dark+World+Premieres+Hollywood+Part+2/2Rgo7lMFGN2


	7. Early Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Brock was doing all the small tactile things that always made her a little crazy, Darcy knew: sliding his tongue around her ear, pressing the stubble on his face against her neck, rocking her as his forearm pressed against her nipples and his other hand moved between her legs. He was working up her up, so she’d say that she loved him again. But why, she wondered? Was it a game for him? Or was he upset about Ian? Her mind went back to that conversation in the Christmas party parking lot and last night. He  _ was  _ threatened by Ian, she realized suddenly. She’d been too wasted and too conscious of her own need for him to see it mirrored in his behavior towards Ian. Calling him by the wrong name. That wasn’t an accident or a mistake. Brock was doing it on purpose. She felt a small giggle rise in her throat.

“What is it, baby? That tickle?” he asked. He’d been kissing her neck.

“Mmm-hmm. Like that,” she said. He shifted her forward, back onto her hands and knees and pressed himself inside her. The realization had pulled her out of the moment enough to be able to pay attention to him, really pay attention. Maybe for the first time: the sound of his movements, his breathing, the slight catch of his moans when she leaned towards him, the way he swore under his breath when he got close. She pushed back against him aggressively. “That feels so good,” he said.

“You like it?” she said, feeling more sure of herself.

“Oh, yeah, princess,” he said. When she clenched around him, he gasped and let out a string of hissed obscenities. “You don’t want to say it, again?” he said, when he slumped forward, panting and shaking, on her back. 

“No,” she said, letting a hint of playfulness into her voice. She had her emotional equilibrium back.

“Okay,” he said, kissing the line of her spine. “C’mon, we gotta go to work. You wanna take a shower with me?”

“Okay,” she said. He let her go gently and they separated. He stood up, then carried her to the bathroom, turning on the shower. She looked at their reflections in the mirror: she had mascara smudged all over her face, her eyes were puffy, and her hair was frizzy. She looked terrible. But he didn’t look so hot, either. His hair was sticking out at all angles and he suddenly looked, well, tired. Maybe even a little bit his age. “How much did we drink last night?” she said. “I thought you had water.”

“I did,” he said, chuckling. “You’re the one who did this to me, not the booze.” He put her under the hot water and stepped in behind her. They did a careful negotiation-slash-dance with shampoo, so that nobody got an elbow to the face. “Hey, let me,” he said, helping shampoo her hair.

“Thanks,” she said, enjoying the feel of his hands on her scalp.

“You like that, huh?” he said. “New thing for us.”

“You’d know if you’d taken that bath with me,” she said coyly.

“Duly noted. You sober enough to box tonight?” he asked.

“Maybe?” she said.

“Drink plenty of water today. I’ll pick you up at five, we’ll go hit stuff,” he said.

“Did you mean what you said? About the disclosure paperwork not being legally binding?” she asked, as he rubbed conditioner over her hair.

“Sure. They’re bureaucratic. Did you mean what you said? You in love with me?” he asked. She made a non-committal noise. He chuckled. “You are,” he said. “Just tell me again.”

“You say it,” she said, regaining some of her confidence. “You say it and then I’ll say it. Maybe.”

“That how it’s gonna be?” he said, pulling her towards him gently. She looked down. His erection was straining against her hip.

“We don’t have a condom,” Darcy said.

“I’ll get one,” he said.

“We’ll be late for work,” she said, turning to wash his hair. Because of the difference in their heights, his erection brushed her lower belly.

“Are you rebuffing me? Sexually?” he said.

“Lean your head down, I can’t reach,” she said.

“Both of ‘em?” he asked, grinning.

“I don’t have time for your foolishness, Brock Rumlow,” she said. She kissed his collarbone and stepped out of the shower.

“Where is this attitude coming from?” he said, looking faintly stunned.

“Hmm?” she said, drying her hair.

“You sassing me, Lewis?” he said.

“Maybe.”

“Princess, where you going?” he said. 

“I’m getting dressed. I’ll give you some privacy to handle that,” she told him, looking at his erection. 

  
  


Darcy found her clothes from last night and freshened them up in the dryer for a minute or two. She was fully clothed and eating toast when he emerged wrapped in a towel. “You don’t want some of this?” he said, turning playfully. He dropped the towel for a second, flashing her one tanned butt cheek. It was super cute, she thought. 

“I’ve got toast, I’m good. There’s coffee for you,” she said.

“I got a present for you,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m not touching your dick, we have to go to work,” Darcy told him. She tried to sound stern. Jane was good at that tone (she was pretty sure, however, that Jane and Thor boffed like nymphomaniacs on ecstasy; the single time they’d all lived in one apartment, she’d had to move out to get some sleep from all the noise).

“That’s not what I meant, baby,” he said, pouting. “I got you real presents.” He went over to the closet and emerged with a few packages.

“What is this?” she said. He sat down and stole some of her toast.

“Open it,” he said. “Early Christmas.”

“I haven’t bought you anything,” she said.

“You got time,” he said. “Besides, you know, they say the best gifts are experiences, not material goods. Things you do together.” His voice was teasing. He rubbed her thigh and unfolded the towel around his waist. Darcy snorted. “You don’t wanna?” he asked. 

“Let’s see if I like this first,” she said, untying the ribbon on the box. It was wrapped in silver paper. She tore away the paper. Clothing boxes, she realized. “Oh,” she said, after she’s popped off the tape on the sides and unfolded the tissue paper. He’d bought her lingerie. 

“You like it?” he asked. A pink teddy. It was a flimy scrap of lace, basically.

“The color is beautiful,”” she said. She could tell by looking that it was entirely too small. It was, in fact, an extra small. “Is this the size you think I am?” she asked, grinning.

“Yeah. You’re tiny,” he said. She burst out laughing. “What?” he asked.

“I don’t think I could squeeze into this when I was twelve,” she said.

“Oh. Really?” he said, looking between her and the bit of fabric in her hands as if he didn’t understand.

“You’re very sweet, but if everything is this size, none of it will fit,” Darcy told him.

“It is,” he said. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” she said, grinning.

“You’re not mad?” he said, frowning. He took it from her, then held it up against her body, and then went  _ oh. _

“No woman was ever mad because someone really thought she was an extra small when she wasn’t,” Darcy said, laughing. 

“C’mere,” he said, trying to hold her.

“You’re naked,” she told him. “Go get dressed.”

“Why do I feel like you don’t like me right now as much as you liked me last night?” he complained.

“You think on that,” she said. He could say it, she thought. There was nothing wrong with his mouth. Nothing at all.

“I gotta go,” Darcy said, trying to get out of the car when they arrived at work. He’d pulled into a parking space and had his hands all over her. He’d been oddly quiet on the drive here. She was expecting him to toss her out abruptly, not wrap her up like the HYDRA octopus.

“Sneak off with me,” he said.

“Can’t, I have a job,” Darcy said. “Jane needs me. She sets fires. She’s a danger to the whole building.” 

“Fine,” he said.

“Still picking me up for boxing?” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

“Good,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek before she got out. When she looked back, he was looking forward, rubbing his jaw, expressionless.

“How hungover are you?” Jane asked, when she walked into the lab.

“Ummm, so blotto that I told Brock I loved him this morning,” Darcy said.

“What?” Jane said.

“We were both naked at the time and getting busy,” Darcy explained, pulling off her bag and coat.

“Oh, I know that one. Awkwardddddd,” Jane said.

“When’s the Thor Bear getting back?” Darcy asked. 

“Today,” Jane said, beaming. “I got a raven this morning.”

“Did you think you were still drunk?” Darcy said.

“Totally,” Jane said.

“Brock’s maybe a little jealous of Ian, I think? Did you get that vibe?” Darcy said. 

“Um, yeah,” Jane said. 

“I’m not imagining it?” Darcy said.

“Not at all,” Jane said. “Natasha thinks so, too.”

When Brock took her to the gym, Tommy greeted her by name. “Here she is! You gonna hit him today?” he asked.

“I’m gonna try,” she said. Brock had his arm around her shoulder. He appeared to have relaxed from this morning. He still made her do a million rounds of freaking jump rope though.

“I hate jump rope,” Darcy said, leaning against the wall. “I gonna die, but first I’m getting Jane to portal me back in time to find the man who invented jump rope, so I can kill him.” Brock laughed.

“You ready to go again?” he said.

“I usually like it when you ask me that,” she said, sighing. 

“Do you?” he said, tilting his head at her.

“You do that a lot,” Darcy said, standing up to do more rounds. 

“What?” he said.

“The head tilt,” she said. “Like a puppy.” Tommy heard her.

“She thinks you’re a puppy, killer!” he yelled. By the end of the workout, she’d managed one good hit to his pads, her legs felt like Jell-O, and the gym guys all made whimpering puppy noises at Brock when he walked by.

“Assholes,” he muttered as they left. “The things I put up with for you.”

“For me? Why?” she said archly. He made a grumbling noise. She leaned over to him in the car and started kissing his cheek. He turned abruptly. They chased each other with kisses: she leaned towards him eagerly, so he shifted to press his mouth against her neck and pushed back. His hands were under her shirt when he spoke again.

“Backseat?” he said hotly. His eyes were intense, studying her face.

“I can’t,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked.

“My legs won’t move,” Darcy admitted. He barked out a laugh. “It’s not that funny,” she said. He took her home and put her in an Epsom salt bath again. “Get in with me?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t,” he said. “I should let you soak and rest.”

“It’s a fantasy of mine,” she said.

“Hmmm?” he said. “Epsom salts?”

“Being in a bathtub with you,” she said. He stood up and started pulling off his clothes. He settled in behind her and held her gently.

“You have any fantasies you want to tell me about?” she asked.

“No,” he said, pushing the hair off her shoulder.

  
  



	8. Merry Christmas from Asgard and Hell's Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

She didn’t have time to press Brock about his fantasies, because Thor returned from Asgard with their live Asgardian tree that evening. They went to see it. It was twice as tall as Jane’s apartment ceilings. Brock helped Thor cut it down in the parking lot of their complex. “It is a shame that only half of our tree shall be used,” Thor said.

“You could make two trees?” Darcy suggested.

“What about the topper? The bottom one is cut flush,” Brock said, frowning.

“Just put something really big on the top of the flat-top tree? A big bow or an angel or something?” Darcy said. Brock tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Okay, baby,” he said. “Sure.” He grinned.

“I hear you making fun of me, but it’s a good idea,” Darcy said. “Let me have it? I could experiment,” she said. She scrunched her nose. She could try trimming the top branches shorter, she thought. Brock laughed.

“Oh, I want to see this,” he said. Soon, they had that tree in her apartment. After watching her wobble with pruning shears, Brock took over. “Just tell me where to cut?” he said. She circled the tree and he clipped. “What are you doing to do, have two trees out here?” he asked.

“I could put this one in the bedroom?” Darcy suggested.

“There better not be Asgardian bugs in here,” Brock said. This time, Darcy laughed.

“It looks pretty,” Darcy said, once they got it in the bedroom.

“It’s decapitated,” Brock said.

“It’s from another realm, though. Don’t hurt its feelings,” Darcy scolded. He laughed again.

“Feelings?” he said.

“It could have them. I’m not clear on the sentience of Asgardian trees,” Darcy said. “We just need to figure out a topper to hide his bald spot.”

“You want to buy a toupee for a tree?” he said.

“I was thinking a really big star,” she said. “Or, ohhh, a piňata, and then on Christmas Day, we can eat the candy,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Perfect. We’ll whack Santa with a bat on Christmas.”

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t like that idea,” she said. When they went to bed, she asked him again about his fantasies. He grinned slyly.

“You’re focused on that, huh?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

“One day, I’ll tell you,” he said.

“Why do I feel like that’s a trick?” Darcy said. He chuckled. She bugged him all night and into the next morning. She noticed that some of his clothes had migrated from his gym bags into her closet and grinned. They were not gym clothes.

  


Darcy was getting ready to go to dinner with Ian on Wednesday night when her doorbell rang. She opened her door. Brock was standing there. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you,” Darcy said.

“Can I come in?” he said.

“Sure,” Darcy said. She let him in. “You want a drink or something?”

“Why haven’t you filed your forms?” he said, not sitting down. “HR called me as I was leaving work for the gym to remind me that you need to do them, too.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Whoops.”

“Why are you all dressed up?” he asked.

“Thor and Jane and I are going to dinner with Ian tonight,” she said. “Thor missed the other night, remember?”

“I remember,” he said.

“Why don’t you come, too?” Darcy offered. He was pacing up and down, she realized.

“Are you not going to do the forms? Is there a problem? Because that phone call was fucking embarrassing,” he said abruptly.

“I forgot,” she said. She’d honestly forgotten.

“You were obviously busy,” he said flatly.

“What’s that mean?” she said.

“Seeing your ex again?” he said quietly. “Look, you just need to tell me--”

“Tell you what?” Darcy said.

“Do you want to get back together with Ian?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m going to do the paperwork, Brock. Why don’t we go together?” She reached out and stroked his arm. He relaxed for a second, then surprised her by reaching out and grabbing her waist with the other arm. He kissed her intensely, cupping the back of her head, and pressing his lips against hers. For a second, Darcy was startled. This wasn’t his usual style. When they broke apart, she looked at him. “Brock, tell me what’s wrong?” she asked. He stared at her for a long time. She thought he wasn’t going to speak. He rubbed his face. “Please?” Darcy said quietly.

“All this time, fucking Ian has driven me crazy,” he said. “You’ve been working here for months. Months. All you did was talk about him. How great he was, all the fun you had together with Thor and Jane. Every sentence out of your mouth started with, “my boyfriend in Greenland and I and Jane and Thor did whatever,” you know that? You adored him. I tried flirting. I tried casual conversation. I talked up my STRIKE team. I whined about my burns. I made sure I didn’t have a fucking shirt on when you brought Thor his snacks. You were kind and you were sweet, but you were mostly professional.” The words had tumbled out of him. As soon as he’d spoken, he looked like he wanted to take them back.

“Professional?” Darcy said dubiously. She wasn’t sure she’d really adored Ian, either. Not enough for Greenland, obviously.

“For you. That means you’re nice to everybody, you make sure they know if there’s donuts, shit like that...But you didn’t look at me twice as a man. I might as well have been Heidi from Accounting or the wall paint. I finally realized that you only really paid attention to me when I was rude. So, I was rude--” he said.

“You wanted my attention all this time?” Darcy said, surprised.

“Dear God, yes. It didn’t even matter if it was negative attention, I didn’t care,” he said.

“You made fun of my Scooby Doo Funko Pop!” Darcy said. He’d been very snide about that, but Scooby was her fave as a kid. He looked embarrassed.

“Yeah, I felt bad about that. It was stupid. So, I brought you raspberry tarts and opera cakes from that French place on Connecticut Avenue,” he said, sighing.

“That was you?” she said. “You didn’t leave a note.” The pastries had been anonymously left on her desk. She’d asked around, but nobody would admit who’d done it.

“What was I supposed to say? Sorry, I’m a dumb asshole?” he said.

“You could have asked me out,” Darcy said.

“But you were so happy with him,” Brock said, sounding oddy frustrated and tender at the same time. “Then he just ditched you one day. Out of the fucking blue, the asshole. I knew you were miserable, crying at work. All sad,” he said, touching her face. “Took you, like, two weeks to shake it off. How would it have looked if I’d asked you then? I was afraid you’d think I was trying to take advantage.”

“I had no idea,” Darcy said.

“I fucking hate Ian Boothby,” Brock said passionately.

“Yeah?” Darcy said. He pulled her in close and held her, his mouth near her ear.

“I want to hear you say the words _I love you,”_ he said in a whisper. “That’s what I fantasize about. Stupid domestic things. Taking you to boxing. Sex under the Christmas tree. Watching you make brownies. Being dragged out to some oddball Norwegian restaurant with the Asgardian and the tiny genius. Having popcorn and listening to you make jokes about ridiculous movies.” He sighed.

“That’s it? No intense fantasies about me dressing up as a French maid or Catwoman?” Darcy said, grinning in delight.

“Don’t tease me,” he grumbled. It was a low sound in his throat.

“What did I say after peppermint martinis that had you so wound up?” she asked.

“I asked you if you wanted to go back to him and you laughed and said you only wanted me,” he said, swallowing.

“Well, that’s obviously true. I always have my biggest realizations when I’m wasted,” Darcy said. “I was in that bar before Ian got there, telling Jane how badly I wanted you to be my real boyfriend.” She nuzzled him.

“Yeah?” he said. His expression was intense.

“I just didn’t think you’d ever been a real boyfriend,” she told him.

“Quit teasing me,” he said. But he looked pleased.

“I’m never going to be really athletic, though, so veto that fantasy, if it exists,” Darcy said. He laughed.

“I love you,” he said seriously. Then he threw her over his shoulder. 

”Wait, wait! We have dinner plans!” Darcy said.

“We can be late. I want to get you out of that dress,” Brock said. "Besides, I never thought you were athletic."

"No?"

"Nope," he said, "but you like to have sex after you exercise, so it doesn't really matter if you can't jump rope."

"Shut up," she said, laughing. 

  
***

They were almost thirty minutes late. Brock had also ripped her dress in his enthusiasm, so Darcy had to change. When they got to the restaurant, Ian looked at them in confusion. “Er, hello,” he said to Brock politely. Then he looked at Darcy. “I put out for Santa?” he asked quizzically.

“A gift from me,” Brock said dryly.

“He has a great sense of humor,” Darcy said, leaning into the arm Brock had over her shoulder. They sat down. Ian, though clearly disappointed, made an effort to be polite. Brock kept his hand on Darcy’s thigh.

“It’s a nice restaurant,” Brock said smoothly. There were white tablecloths and tastefully boring Christmas music playing. Darcy and Jane exchanged looks that telegraphed, _Dullsville, right?_ A bored Thor was waving at a toddler at a nearby table.

“I’ve been to the sister restaurant in New York a few times,” Ian said.

“You’ve out-sophisticated us,” Darcy joked. “We’re still desert hippies eating Pop Tarts.” She saw Thor frown at the menu. It didn’t have prices, but Darcy could have guessed that the bill would be high and the amount of food would be low. They were having stilted conversation when someone came to tell Ian he had a phone call and he left the table.

“Don’t worry, pal. We’ll sort you out with a burger later,” Brock told Thor.

“Not just him, me!” Jane said, laughing.

“Me three,” Darcy said. Just then, Ian came back looking worried. “Everything okay?” Darcy asked him.

“Uhh, yes,” Ian said. He sighed. “It’s nothing.” Next to Darcy, Brock had suddenly gone still. Then he moved a little and she realized he’d retrieved a gun from his ankle holster and was holding it under the table.

“Brock?” Darcy said, alarmed.

“Is the nothing called Elektra Natchios?” Brock said quietly.

“Y-y-yes,” Ian stuttered.

“She’s headed this way. Thor, get the hammer,” Brock said. Darcy realized Thor had already picked up Mew-Mew.

“I know she’s a crazy rich lady, but why are you both arming yourselves?” Jane said in a low voice. Ian was staring as if he wanted to run, but couldn’t quite move his legs.

“Crazy rich lady’s been brought back from the dead at least once,” Brock said. “And not the good kind.”

“There’s a good kind of being brought back from the dead?” Darcy asked, watching the elegant, vaguely alarming Elektra walk towards them. She had an almost serpent-like menace--beautiful, but terrifying. Her irises were so dark that her eyes seemed almost black. Juxtaposed against her wide, crimson-lipsticked mouth, those eyes were especially glittering.

“It’s a relative scale, really,” Brock said. “Princess, I want you and Jane to stand behind me, okay? She’s been highly trained in combat and knife work.” The three of them stood up and Darcy and Jane stepped behind Brock. Thor took lead. He was the biggest and Mjolnir the scariest.

“What about Ian?” Darcy said. He was still standing next to his chair, his mouth open.

“She can have him,” Brock said.

“I would like to keep him,” Elektra said smoothly, as she arrived at their table. “You,” she purred, “are Thor?” She ran a hand along Thor’s bicep and Jane made a sound behind Darcy.

“Jane,” Darcy said warningly.

“Dr. Foster, I presume?” Elektra said, tilting her head to size up Jane. “Short. Badly-dressed as well. You are lucky to have such good bones.” Her eyes shifted to Darcy. “Which makes you Darcy Lewis,” she said.

“We’ve met before,” Darcy reminded her. Elektra walked around the table, her fingers grazing the tablecloth.

“Before I found you utterly forgettable. But now I’ve heard Ian talk about you ceaselessly,” Elektra said. She sighed. “It makes me quite want to kill you.”

“Elektra!” Ian said. Brock was openly holding his gun on Elektra now.

“I didn’t say I was going to,” Elektra said poutily.

“Thanks for the clarification,” Jane said.

“What do you think you will do?” Thor asked coolly. People thought Thor was stupid, Darcy reflected, but he was just inordinately forgiving and chill. But cross him? A mistake.

“I am going to take Ian and you will let me. I don’t care if you want him back, he belongs to me now,” she said. “He’s everything I wanted Matty to be--docile, obedient, taller.” Ian whimpered.

“What if Ian doesn’t want to go?” Darcy asked.

“Ian,” Elektra whined.

“I’ll--I’ll go,” Ian said, looking as if he was shoring himself up internally. They moved to step away and Ian gave Darcy a last, sad look, like a puppy being abandoned at the pound. It lit a fire in Darcy. She was in love with Brock, but she wasn’t the type to dump an unwanted puppy at the pound. She stepped from behind Brock and hit an unsuspecting Elektra with her taser.

“Ian! Run!” she yelled, as Elektra jolted and went down. It was her birthday present taser from Tony. Super-effective.

“Have you lost your mind?” Brock yelled. “Jane, take her and run!” Jane, Ian, and Darcy rushed for the door. There was a bang behind them. Thor had thrown Mew-Mew. Darcy realized why when the knife whizzed by her head. All of a sudden, they were surrounded by fleeing diners. There was lots of screaming.

“She has knives under that dress?!” Jane said.

“Under all of them!” Ian yelled. The made their way to the exit, along with all the other restaurant patrons. There was a pitched battle going on inside. When Darcy peered back, she could see Brock hiding behind a sideways table.

Luckily, Steve and Natasha arrived to provide backup five minutes later. The restaurant was totally destroyed, but Thor and Brock were okay, Natasha said. A spitting and swearing Elektra was led away to a waiting SHIELD van by Natasha, but perked up when she saw Steve emerging from the building. “A man in uniform!” she purred. Steve looked alarmed and took a step back.

“Chicken,” Darcy teased.

“Ian! Ian!” Elektra was calling, as she was put in the van.

“We can give you a new identity,” Steve said to Ian.

“I-I think that would be good,” Ian told him.

“Where’s Brock?” Darcy said.

“Right here,” he said dryly. He stepped out and Darcy ran to him. There was a cut above his eyebrow.

“She hurt you!” Darcy said, pissed off. He grabbed the back of her jacket as she turned and went towards the van, furious.

“Nuh-huh, princess,” he said. He wagged a finger. “No fighting the crazy girl.”

“I want to tase her again!” Darcy insisted. He chuckled and pulled her into his arms, so her back was against his chest.

“Nope,” he said. “Technically, we owe that restaurant damages, but Romanoff got a check from her. I’m not asking how.”

“Theft, probably,” Jane said.

“She’s usually good about paying for anything she destroys once she calms down. Paid back all three of my landlords,” Ian said.

“Three?” Darcy repeated, as Brock kissed the top of her head.

“The last apartment was a total loss,” Ian said sighing.

Once everything was settled, they went back to Thor and Jane’s for eggnog and to see the Asgardian Christmas tree. “I’ve never seen a blue-green fir tree before,” Ian said.

“Very distinctive,” Natasha agreed. Darcy thought she might be giving Ian the once-over.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Steve said. He was helping Darcy and Jane with the eggnog. His recipe was really good. “Thor, you have any of that Asgardian bourbon?” Steve asked.

“No,” Jane said. “We have to work and walk tomorrow. It’s a weekday.”

“Midgardian bourbon it is,” Steve said cheerfully.

“We must do the star!” Thor said. “Jane, I will hold you up so you can put it on the tree!”

“Awwww,” Darcy said to Brock, as Thor held Jane up in the air. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“We’ve done more fun things with a Christmas tree,” he whispered wryly.

“I can hear you,” Steve complained.

“Like you weren’t listening on purpose,” Brock said dryly. “Is it just me or are Romanoff and your ex--”

“I think so,” Darcy said.

“Why?” Brock said, baffled.

“He’s a magnet for strong, beautiful women?” Darcy said, laughing quietly. Steve grinned at them from across the room.

“Sure,” Brock said wryly. He still had an axe to grind, Darcy thought.

“You still hate him!” she whispered, giggling.

“Sure,” Brock said. “Also, I need to keep making you box, if you’re going to pull crazy stunts like that.”

“If you want me to feel guilty, you should sound less proud when you say that,” Darcy told him.

“My girl got the drop on the Black Hand,” Brock said, chuckling.

“The what?” Darcy said. He looked at her and shook his head.

“You don’t want to know. It’s-it’s--I don’t even know where to begin. It makes Asgardian stories about Loki seem sane and reasonable. There’s this random white kid called Iron Fist, for a fucking start--”

By the time Brock finished talking shit about the secret cult that wanted Elektra to be their leader, everyone was rolling on the floor. “I don’t really know how they haven’t _all_ been shot by Frank Castle,” Brock said, “just on the grounds that their evil organization is laughable and into pretentious classical music.”

“Do you know the Punisher?” Darcy said, staring.

“He shot all those people!” Jane said.

“I met him years ago in Afghanistan,” Brock said. “He was all right then. Just regular Marine levels of crazy. I have a number, but I don’t see him too often.”

“Because he’s a fugitive?” Steve said.

“You say that like you don’t know one,” Natasha said, tearing her eyes away from Ian.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Where does he spend the holidays?”

“No idea,” Brock said.

“We should invite him to stay with us!” Darcy said. “Call him!’

“Darce, how much eggnog--” Jane began.

“Shush, we have Mjolnir, Steve’s shield, Natasha, and Brock’s guns, we’re fine,” Darcy said. A few hours later--about 1am--the doorbell rang. Darcy went to open it. She looked through the peephole. A guy with a thick beard and a hat was standing there. She recognized his face. Opening the door, she spoke first. “Hi! I’m Darcy. Come on insid--puppy!” she squealed. A large grey pit bull was at his feet. Darcy was patting and kissing the dog when he spoke.

“So, you don’t mind that I brought the dog?” he said wryly. "Interesting sweater, sweetheart." 

“Thank you. I love dogs,” Darcy said. “You’re sweet, aren’t you?” she told the enthusiastically affectionate puppy. He was slobbering all over her face as his tail thumped against the doorframe.

“She loves dogs and bad kissers, huh? Guess that explains a lot,” Frank said to Brock.

“Shut up, asshole, and stop leering at my girl. You look like a barista from Williamsburg,” Brock said. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“What the fuck kind of tree is that? Is it blue?” Frank asked, as he stepped into the apartment.

“It is from Asgard!” Thor said. Darcy was leading the dog over to Steve. Frank looked around the room quizzically.

“Just what kind of world are you living in, brother?” he said to Brock.

“Gets stranger everyday,” Brock said, patting his shoulder. “You want eggnog?”

“Sure,” Frank said.

“You can crash with me for awhile if you want?” Brock offered.

“Isn’t that a federal crime?” Frank said.

“Eh, I got a clean record now,” Brock said.

“Yeah, stay with us,” Darcy said. She had her arms around the dog.

“I don’t know,” Frank said. He leaned closer to Brock. “Your girl seems nice. Don’t want to mess anything up for you,” Frank said. "It's not like nice girls like you much."

"Shut up, asshole."

***  


Darcy and Brock were laying in bed together on Christmas Eve. Brock entwined his fingers with hers. “I’m happy,” he said quietly.

“Would you like to move in with me?” Darcy said. “One hundred percent, not just a toothbrush and some clothes?”

“Really?” he said, looking at her seriously.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she said, borrowing one of his favorite words. He grinned, then frowned.

“What are we going to do with Frank?” Brock said. “I don’t think he’s well enough to kick off my couch.” He sighed.

“I was thinking we could give him to Steve for Christmas. Steve likes having people around and nice Catholic boys seem to exert a good influence on Frank,” Darcy said.

“You’re so smart, baby,” Brock said, kissing her. “Even your piňata idea turned out good.” The piňata was perched on top of the tree, disguising the flat-top. She’d caught him telling Santas his days were numbered; she was rubbing off on him.

“Oh, did I tell you that Ian and Natasha snuck off to wherever they’re sending him?” Darcy said. “I got an anonymous, unsigned postcard. I think it’s a clue.” She got it off the nightstand and passed it to him. “She and I talked about sending each other fun clues once.”

“Niagara Falls?” Brock said incredulously, looking at the postcard. “What do women see in that kid?”

“You’re still jelly!” Darcy squealed.

“Shhh,” Brock said. “You’ll wake Frank.” He was asleep on the couch. “Hold on,” Brock said. “I’m going to let you open a present early.” He got out of the bed, pulled on his boxers, and went out to the tree in the living room. Darcy heard the dog--Frank literally called him Dog--wag his tail, then Brock returned with a wrapped box. “I think this will fit,” he said, grinning and passing it to her. She pulled the bow off, then the paper, and looked inside.

“A necklace with a bike charm on it?” Darcy said, confused.

“Jane said you liked spin class, so I thought I’d get you all your supplies, set you up a home bike,” he said.

“Oh my God, you mean I get enjoyable girly fitness?” Darcy said. “With no dude gym?”

“Yes, baby,” Brock said. He grinned slyly.

“What?” she said.

“You like to have sex after you exercise, so it’s really a plus for me if there’s no one else around and I only have to carry you a short distance,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t mind if Tommy came over and heckled you, though,” Darcy told him. He laughed.

“Frank and I are going to put the bike together tomorrow,” he said.

“This I have to see,” Darcy said. “I have something for you to open now, too.” She got a box out of the closet. He opened it and lifted out the piece of lingerie.

“You want me to wear this?” he said.

“Oh, no. I wear it, but it’s a present for you. I got all that stuff you picked out, just in the right size,” she said, laughing.

“Does that mean Christmas comes early?” he said wryly.

“Mmm-hmm. More than once, I hope,” Darcy said, kissing him. He started unbuttoning her pajamas.

Out in the living room, Frank Castle picked up his head at the noise and sighed. He looked at Dog. “We gotta find roommates that don’t fuck so damn much,” he said. Dog wagged his tail. “Rogers is a virgin, right?” he said out loud, then fished his phone out of his pocket.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your fun comments and kudos on this story! It's been really fun. Merry Christmas and Happy holidays!


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